


do you like scary movies?

by Ominous, Stjosten



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Pining, and wears cute movie themed outfits, halloween and fall vibes, it's important, just overall a very self indulgent wholesome au lol, light OoC, lots of horror movie references but no actual scary stuff happens, neil is a horror movie nerd, seriously there is copious amounts of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27141239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ominous/pseuds/Ominous, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stjosten/pseuds/Stjosten
Summary: To say Andrew has never seen the benefit in the make-believe would be a lie. However, he finds less and less use for it as he grows older. He especially fails to see the benefits of anything from the horror genre; he’s made plenty of his own mistakes, has seen more than enough to terrify him in his life. He doesn’t need to rely on jump scares and idiotic protagonists.But when he meets Neil, self-proclaimed horror archivist, he finds that maybe he never gave the genre the credit it was due, and he ends up thanking the dull movies eventually…They lead him to Neil, the realest thing he’s ever known.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 85
Kudos: 354





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Stjosten and I decided to team up for this chaotic, self-indulgent fic! Honestly it's about time we got to do something together, and it's such an honor! it's been an absolute ride to work with one another, and I haven't had this much fun in a long time. We're both horror movie nerds who love fall, so it only seemed appropriate that we would throw all of our interests and hobbies onto a fluffy andreil au lol
> 
> We hope you enjoy reading this, it was originally going to be a one shot but as you can see....it got away from us lmao it's all ready for posting though, and we're excited to share it with you!

Andrew is perhaps too old to have this active of an imagination. 

His days of sitting by the window, crafting ridiculous worlds and theories miles away from reality are mostly a thing of the past. Now, his indulgence comes in the form of watching his neighbors or soaking up the gossip of the people around him, creating roadmaps and worst case scenarios. His bets are kept private on how each will turn out, between his own musings and emotions.

It’s far from magical, far from festive. The mundane can be exciting enough, and if it’s not, he can make it so. It’s pulling teeth at times, but he supposes his minimal effort is progress unrecognized. All in all, he doesn’t feel the need to bend the world into an outlandish escape like he might’ve as a desperate child.

However, he can’t help but let his mind run wild when he sees the store, drenched in autumn. The leaves under his heavy boots crunch as he stops, surveying the bright orange banners wrapped around the uneven brick. Every once in a while, the slow wind beats the plastic; it’ll fall off soon.

It would be painfully unremarkable, if he had any recollection of it at all. He’s pretty sure he’s never seen this place before, though it’s settled on the same old town street he walks through everyday. Across from the old theater, enough to smell like butter and popcorn, or spilled soda. The lingering fumes of the alcohol from the adjacent liquor store blend with it too. It’s nestled by places Andrew knows like the back of his hand, involuntarily, but still. 

It’s as old as everything else. Ancient, and unmovable, despite the lack of funding or visitors. 

Andrew’s sure it’s been here for years, but his steel-trap mind sees nothing but blurs and murkiness when he runs through the movie reel of time in his head. 

So, it’s easy for Andrew to believe it magically appeared here overnight, swept in by the power of the season or whatever. Halloween...October...no different from any other month or holiday.

That doesn’t stop him from being strangely drawn in. He only hesitates at the glass window momentarily as Nicky ushers them on, eyeing the cobweb details and polymer displays of ghosts, ghouls, and iconic horror movie villains. Andrew’s not familiar enough with the movies to name them, but the effort seems excessive for something that will be outdated as soon as the 31st comes and goes. 

A hole-in-the-wall has no business having this vibe of intrigue, and Andrew almost tells Nicky he’d rather go wait for them in the ice cream parlor down the road. 

“Absolutely not!” Nicky spins on him, and Andrew doesn’t flinch the same way Aaron does. He stays planted to the chipped cement beneath him, stubbornly digging his heel into the jagged indent. Nicky flails, gesturing to one of the paper ghosts setup in the display. “We’re making this decision as a family! You said you’d help pick out a movie, and this place is _obviously_ perfect!”

Andrew sighs. He did say that, and regret is not something he stomachs well, but the edges of it trickle in anyways. 

Aaron is just as unamused. “Nicky, the _Walmart_ has ghost decorations. It’s not revolutionary.” 

Andrew agrees, but that doesn’t stop him from eyeing the little clay figurine of a hockey-masked slasher. It feels different from the normal Halloween gimmicks, the figures placed with care next to corn husk dolls. Andrew doesn’t realize it until a second later, but it’s an intricate set. The corn husks even have little blood-stained outfits, positioned around a slightly larger wooden statue with fake paper flames around it. 

He doesn’t get the reference. The wind blows around him harsher, and when he looks around the world is grey, but not in the usual dull, pessimistic palette. The fall season has a way of being colorful and monochrome all at once, at strangely the right times. 

It makes him feel like another doll in the set, succumbing to the season and wherever the hands of fate may place him. Years ago, this would have ignited an illogical resentment in him. Now, there’s only curiosity, and an itch in the back of his head.

Maybe he’s chilled out more than he thought in the past few years. Not that he’ll ever admit it. 

He’s still not sure about this place, but while uncertainty has always caused his stomach to curl, this kind pushes him forward with a whisper. He should walk away, but his habits override his caution.

A deal is a deal. 

“But look how cute they are!” Nicky says, pulling Aaron closer as if proximity will somehow change his opinion. Aaron has no right to look this over it, since he’s the one who suggested the movie night in the first place. Andrew has a feeling it’s only because he’s trying to spook Katelyn enough to get him some (frankly nauseating) cuddle time, which Andrew will have to witness. He wonders if he picks something riveting enough, no one will notice him leaving in the middle of the movie. 

He knows Nicky can’t read his mind, but his cousin’s eyes narrow just as the thought occurs to him. He points a stubborn finger as close to Andrew as he can, jabbing it for emphasis while remaining on the edge of his bubble. “Don’t be a debbie downer. This is supposed to be _fun_. Get us in the spirit...” 

Nicky wiggles his fingers for flair, but he should know them well enough by now to understand it’ll get no response. 

“Sure,” Aaron says, shrugging Nicky off of him and taking a step towards the door. It’s decorated with orange bells and animal paw prints. _Werewolves_ , Andrew reasons. 

Aaron waves them in. “Let's just get this over with. Kate will be over in an hour.”

“That’s the spirit,” Nicky says sarcastically, and each jingle of the door makes Andrew flinch. “Katelyn should’ve come with us, then maybe you’d be in a better mood.”

Aaron misses when he tries to trip Nicky, and Andrew doesn’t smile, but he hopes Aaron can feel his mocking energy anyways.

As soon as they’re inside the movie store Andrew is hit with an overwhelming smell that can only be described as _fall_ . There’s a hint of cinnamon in the air thick enough to choke on, coupled with the smell of leaves and wet grass. He wonders if someone bottled the smell of the early morning somehow and sprayed it everywhere. Or maybe his fantasies _are_ just spilling into real life. 

He looks down, just to make sure he’s not still walking on leaves. 

He glares at his feet and inhales deeply, the cinnamon warming him to the core. It fits the store’s overall aesthetic well, if he’s being honest. Even the inside is so painstakingly decorated to look like a halloween store threw up; there’s cobwebs set over the old wooden shelves and small baby pumpkins scattered across the front counter. He wonders if the shelves are meant to look that dusty, and he stares into the eyes of a painted skull. 

More polymer figurines adorn each of the sections, complete with a barrage of stickers or fake blood painted on the sides. When he passes by the welcome sign, the fake spider on the desk lights up bright orange, and its legs dance on the wood.

Apart from the shuffling of the spider’s feet and the hushed conversations of other customers, it’s quiet. Almost creepily so, given the character of the place. It’s trying so hard to be loud, and yet Andrew feels like they’ll be kicked out for breathing too hard. 

There isn’t an employee in sight and part of Andrew wonders if he’s somehow managed to slip into another universe yet again, one that is permanently celebrating Halloween and is archaic enough to think that physical DVDs and tapes are still relevant. He glides his hands over some of the tape covers, faded and worn with cracks in the plastic. Each cluster is bracketed off by year. 

1950s. 1960s…

Andrew traces them all the way through. 

Why is he here? 

Andrew sighs, but ventures further into the store. He still doesn’t know why Aaron wanted to do this. They could have found a movie to stream at home, but there must be something about the season that brings out Aaron’s nostalgic side, or maybe that was Katelyn’s influence. She had been the one to come over on October 1st already in costume, with bags of candy and orange place mats for their dreary apartment.

Either she infected Aaron with the cheer, or he embraced it. It was sometimes hard to tell what Aaron did of his own volition versus what he did because he thought it would make Katelyn happy. 

Andrew has yet to understand. 

Nicky and Aaron immediately gravitate towards the back of the store, through rows of shelving units sectioned off by genre, towards the horror movie section. Andrew has never really cared enough about horror to indulge in the overly gory scenes or complete naivety and thoughtlessness of most horror movie protagonists. 

Then again he’s never really been interested in film, always preferring the world of literature over motion pictures. That’s probably why he’s dedicated his career to editing novels. 

If the video store itself is otherworldly, then the horror section is another thing entirely. 

The entire section is decked out in bloody posters and full size standees of movie villains. Of course, they’re taller than him. Andrew intentionally knocks into a cut-out of a guy holding a machete just to be difficult, watching it teeter precariously.

Nicky catches him and gives him an offended look as if Andrew had just elbowed a real person rather than a cardboard cut-out. His expression says _behave_ , and Andrew has no intention of doing so. 

“Katelyn suggested an older movie,” Aaron says, slightly distracted with looking over the movies that seem to take up the entire back wall. It’s a full length assortment of red and black titles and covers, an organized mass sorted by year and type. Tapes, DVDs, the lot. It’s so expansive, there’s a beginners movie list taped to the nearest bookshelf.

Andrew finds it hard to believe that anyone could be so enthusiastic about stuff like this. But then he remembers Katelyn and her fall cheer and figures that the obsession is probably seasonal. 

“What’s scarier? Slasher or...” Aaron pauses and grabs a DVD off the shelf to show off, slightly knocking over the ones leaning against it. The cover features a poorly drawn monster clown with a distorted face. “Killer clowns?” 

Andrew gives him the blankest expression he can manage. The odds of him paying attention during movie night are slim anyways, but if he has to sit through the first thirty minutes, he wants it to be digestible. 

“How about something with a little less blood,” Nicky suggests gently, and he takes the DVD right out of Aaron’s hand and puts it back without checking if it’s supposed to be there. Andrew is by no means organized with things that are not his own, but whoever put this intricate display together must be cringing somewhere. 

Andrew just watches his family squabble, because it’s easier to observe than participate, especially when Aaron starts to argue that clowns are far creepier than a ghost that doesn’t even show up until the end of the movie. Andrew runs his hands over the old faded titles and listens while they argue. 

He notices that some titles have a star placed on the spot in front of them. 

Sadly, an argument between Nicky and Aaron never stays quiet for long, but it’s rarely anything more than trivial banter. When they’re actually angry with each other, there is _no_ talking, and even a cough can be considered an act of war. Even if Andrew prefers silence, he would rather they argue like this than know that it’s something serious. He’s not in the mood to diffuse. 

“This is an _awful_ movie,” Aaron says, looking at Nicky’s suggestion, something older and unimpressive with a creature on the front that couldn’t pass for scary in the modern era. 

“They’re _all_ awful movies,” Nicky laments. “You don’t watch a horror movie for a good story. You watch it so you can either make fun of it or pretend to be scared so you can snuggle up with your sweetheart!” 

“Gross,” Aaron says without any real heat in his voice. There is so much irony in Aaron’s words, considering that the later statement is the entire reason they are here. 

“Fine,” Nicky says, slightly more annoyed before putting the movie back. Again, in the wrong spot. “ _You_ decide.” 

“I’m trying,” Aaron says through his teeth, which just serves to start another loud argument, something about Aaron being difficult on purpose and something about Nicky trying to make the entire night about himself. 

Andrew’s shoulders sag as the noise begins to interfere with his ability to focus on the titles, and he steps away. He looks back around the store just as the door to the backroom swings open with a comical level of force, shaking the fake caution tape with poorly printed blood on the edges. 

There’s even a fog machine. 

Andrew would scoff, if he could breathe at all, but as the fog dissipates around the clunky platforms the employee is wearing, Andrew’s gaze travels up. 

The person that steps out into the store is not exactly what Andrew had been expecting. A place like this, a place so encapsulated in a singular time period, should have been owned and operated by someone of the older generation. Maybe a weird older guy with rounded glasses and gray-white hair that wears corduroys and tweed jackets. 

Instead what steps out of the backroom is someone in their twenties, maybe only a few inches taller than Andrew. Scars line his sharp features like flashes of lightning, jagged strikes high on his cheeks that direct Andrew right to bright blue eyes. His hair is the same dark red as a dying leaf, and he’s dressed like he just stepped out of the 1970’s.

Andrew is definitely dreaming isn’t he? He’s sure of it now.

He blinks and stomps down the urge to pinch his arm, something he has done over and over in the past to remind himself that he was awake when he felt like he was floating. Once again, it’s as if he’s cast into space without a leg to stand on. 

The employee might be dressed in the store’s mandated uniform, but something about the carefully tucked in blue button down shirt that’s paired with dark high-waisted bell bottoms doesn’t _scream_ corporate video store attire. There is something about the outfit, paired with the overly decorated interior and the employee’s sharp blue eyes that has Andrew’s stomach twisting up.

He’s not sure if he hates it, but he feels like he should. 

The employee doesn’t look exactly thrilled to see them; he gives Andrew one quick glance, but that is enough for the heat in his body to turn into a sizzle, threatening to boil over and scald. The redhead sends him a pointed look that is anything but friendly, before settling his intense gaze on Nicky and Aaron. Andrew watches with amusement as he walks over, his hands already placed on his hips in a no-nonsense manner that shouldn’t be as attractive as Andrew finds it to be.

“Can I help you?” The employee asks, voice sharp enough to cut through Nicky and Aaron’s heated, but mostly tame, argument. They both stop their bickering in order to turn and give the employee very different looks. Nicky, surprised and apologetic, and Aaron, unaffected and maybe a touch annoyed.

“Oh no,” Nicky says quickly, waving his hands in front of his face as if he’s swatting away the heavy scent of cinnamon that’s tucked around them. “We’re fine. Just trying to pick out a movie and failing miserably.” 

“Yes,” the employee says, not an ounce of customer service in his voice. “I could hear you arguing from the back.” 

“Oh?” Nicky says, his voice a quiet squeak of embarrassment. Andrew smothers the urge to let out a snort at the reaction. 

The employee steps forward to look at the movie in Aaron’s hand. He clicks his tongue and then grabs it without warning, putting it away in the correct spot without having to double check. 

“That’s not a good movie for what you want,” he says without giving Aaron a chance to protest. “If you are looking for jump scares without too much gore then _this_ is what you’re looking for.” 

He has a different movie in his hand within a few seconds, handing it off to Aaron and smiling in such a way that’s much more condescending than genuine. Aaron looks down at the movie in his hand, and shrugs as if he couldn’t care less, as if he wasn’t _just_ arguing with Nicky about the perfect movie to scare the shit out of his girlfriend.

“Fine,” Aaron says, clearly annoyed, which isn’t surprising and sort of his default when it comes to dealing with anyone other than Katelyn. “This works.” 

“Great,” the employee says, and he claps his hands and adds, “Are you all set? Ready to check out?” 

_Get the fuck out of my store_ goes unsaid but it’s stitched into every word. Andrew can hear it and he assumes that Nicky and Aaron hear it as well, because Nicky quickly places his hands on Aaron’s shoulders and starts to usher him away from the horror movie section and back towards the front of the store. 

Aaron plants his feet stubbornly, and Nicky practically shoves him.

“We are _all_ set,” Nicky sings out, stretching out his vowels like he does when he’s nervous, “Thank you for _all_ of your help.” 

The employee just flashes his condescending smile, and it twists the scars on his face. Funny, how Andrew could probably make horror movie allusions about them, but it feels wrong and makes a trickle of fleeting anger run through him. No, the scars are hard to miss, abnormal, but they seem to fit the man in front of him. Maybe it’s because the employee wears them so proudly.

Andrew hates that he’s interesting. Mean, rude, and dressed like he just stepped out of one of the awful horror movie posters hanging on the wall behind him. An unreal reflection of the very cinema that Andrew can’t find remotely interesting, but here he is, intriguing enough that Andrew can’t take his eyes off of him.

This is bad. 

Andrew _likes_ interesting but he hates being _interested_ . In the past, being interested meant he wanted more than he could usually handle, and anything more than a quick hookup was Andrew’s very _definition_ of things that he could not handle. 

He’s getting too ahead of himself. 

He doesn’t even know the employee’s name, but he would be lying if he said that the redhead’s harsh attitude and sharp eyes weren’t enough to make Andrew want to push him against the nearest flat surface and unbutton that stupid fucking blue shirt. 

Andrew sighs and admonishes himself. Has it really been that long? He’s not someone who craves intimacy, or affection, definitely not _touch_. He’s seen many hot guys walk down the street in front of their apartment, he’s been flirted with in bars and in coffee shops.

But he’s never felt this level of _want_ so fast, and his instinct is to smother the flame as quickly as possible. 

But, he’s different now. As much as he hates to admit it, he’s grown somewhat used to this peaceful, boring life of his. With therapy as his aid, the stability of his job and steady presence of his family has made his knee-jerk reactions to _feelings_ less dramatic. Now, he finds himself wondering, not resisting.

There’s no harm chasing his interests, because he has things to fall back on. Right now, this rowdy employee happens to be _very_ interesting, and _very_ pretty.

So quite honestly, what is there to lose? 

As the thought settles in his mind, he becomes aware of the employee’s nails tapping against the glass counter, ever impatient. The edge of Andrew’s mouth quirks up. 

Nicky doesn’t touch him but he clears his throat to get Andrew’s attention and nods towards the counter, where the employee is now standing with his free hand tucked underneath his chin, watching them with poorly veiled contempt. 

Andrew practically pushes Aaron out of his way as he leans forward on the counter. Andrew ignores the yelp. The employee stays put, but the tapping stops. 

Hm. Okay then. 

“Is there a reason you look like a babysitter?” Andrew asks, and hopes that’s the right reference. The employee takes the DVD and slides it across the glass, but stops when Andrew’s words register. Suddenly, those piercing eyes are on him, staring into his soul. 

Now, Andrew hasn’t felt self-conscious since he was a pre-teen, but this brings back a shadow of the feeling. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this evaluated. 

But considering how stereotypical horror movies are, he can’t be too far from the mark.

The employee opens his mouth, then closes it, considering. He chews on his words, and whatever instinctual biting comment he might’ve spit out is shelved and reworked like the remakes in the horror section. Then, he’s tilting his head, and stepping back from the counter. He gestures down at himself lazily, and whatever, Andrew takes the free invitation to admire. 

The employee, bored, clicks his tongue. “Can’t you tell? Am I not Laurie Strode enough for you?”

Andrew is humble enough to admit to himself that he’s too distracted by the clinch of the employee’s waist to think of a good response, and even when he does process the question, he doesn’t understand. 

At Andrew’s silence, the employee’s neutral frown curls into a smirk that has Andrew’s eyes gleaming. His spine straightens, and where Nicky and Aaron lean back, Andrew leans forward.

The employee sighs, and gets back to punching the price into the old cash register. “You don’t even know who that is do you?”

The haughtiness should not be attractive. 

“I know it’s not your name,” Andrew tries, then cringes internally. If he was going for unaffected then he did _not_ manage it. He’s never had to feign it before. 

Behind him, he hears Aaron wince, and he resists the urge to turn around and make him sorry for his whole existence.

Andrew steels himself. In his defense, he’s never felt a need to flirt before and it’s not his usual name of the game. He can’t even say he’s flirting now, doesn’t know how to identify it. He hates beating around the bush, wasting time, but he’s being greedy for some unknown reason. He’ll take as much information about this man as he can. At least until he discerns that he’s not from another Halloween dimension. 

The employee stalls, and this time when he stares Andrew down, there’s an almost cautionary look to him. Any response to the flirting isn’t there, as if it flies over the employee’s head completely.

Instead, it’s like he’s sizing Andrew up, wondering if he’s a threat. Interesting indeed. The employee squints, holding his wrist close to his chest. It passes through, and in the next minute the employee is shaking his head, fishing in the drawer under the register for a lint-covered name tag. He snaps the magnet backing onto his clothes, and grimaces at the way the neon green clashes with his _costume_. 

The employee taps the name tag once, and it reads NEIL in bold black. There is a small pumpkin sticker in one corner. It’s an entirely ordinary name for someone who stands out far too much. It’s like it was hand-picked from a list of commonality, but the employee fights a smile as he looks down at it. 

Andrew has no idea what it means to cherish a name, but it’s so odd it’s impossible to miss. 

Well, it’s something, but not nearly enough. Andrew doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but he muses aloud. “I was expecting more.”

“Excuse me?” Neil asks, gaze slicing up to him, but Andrew doesn’t pierce easily. He quirks a brow. 

“It’s a normal name,” Andrew states, and Neil blinks. But again, the implicit flirting is missed, and Andrew’s not sure why it makes Neil even more appealing. An amused huff escapes the redhead’s lips. 

“What can I say? I’m boring,” Neil states, holding out his hand. Andrew pulls out the cash, careful not to touch Neil’s palm. Neil watches the exchange, and Andrew wonders if he notices. Pretty boy or not, Andrew’s aversion to touch isn’t something he can shake easily. In this case, he wonders if that’s what it is though. Perhaps he’s just afraid of unraveling. 

He recites the words in his head. _Boring_ , Neil said. Andrew doubts that. In fact he _knows_ that’s a lie. 

Under Andrew’s stare, Neil begins to fidget, pushing the DVD away and tracing the lines of the old house on the cover. Andrew wonders if he’s seen it more than once, if he likes it, or why he hates it. 

All he knows is Neil _definitely_ feels some type of way about it, and Andrew shouldn’t care, and wants to say he doesn’t. But deep down he knows that he’d stand here for hours to hear the other rant about it. 

And isn’t that a new level of absurdity he didn’t think himself capable of? They’re strangers, and if he never came back to this store, Neil would probably forget about him in a few days. It is nothing, no more than a fleeting interaction that will wither and fade like the 50s movie covers. 

Andrew’s life would be unchanged. 

The idea of voluntarily stepping into the unknown had never been a safe option before. But that was then, this is now. 

He’s thinking too much, but perhaps he’s always been more dramatic than he thought. 

“And you?” Neil asks suddenly, and he takes his time sliding the cash door closed. When he hands Andrew his change, he’s careful to not touch him. That in and of itself, makes Andrew want to give in. 

At Andrew’s hesitation, Neil tilts his head again. “Your name.” 

Andrew, mockingly, tilts his head as well, and calls back to Neil’s own reaction. “You’re not going to use it against me?” 

Amusement crosses Neil’s face briefly before it’s gone. “I have no energy to waste on people who haven’t even seen the classics.”

Andrew wonders if it’s anything more than an insult, but he takes the invitation. 

“Horror movies are a waste of time.”

“If you say that, you’ve never seen any good ones.”

“Then show me some,” Andrew bites back, and startles himself. He has no interest in the movies, only the person who very clearly adores them. He couldn’t stomach the bad effects or repetitive storylines, so he doesn’t exactly believe Neil. But he never says things he doesn’t mean, even if he’s not quite aware of it yet.

He lets the statement dangle between them, and Neil’s answering expression is very close to a pout, and also extremely bad for Andrew’s health. 

Neil gestures back down the rows. “The display has—”

“I’ll hear it from you,” Andrew interrupts, and he waits to see if Neil understands that it’s not a demand or an order. An offer, if Neil is inclined. And Andrew must be in over his head, but he lets it go for once. He can feel the stupid curiosity radiating from his family behind him, but his focus is all for Neil. 

Neil, who can give Andrew any answer and it will be accepted without question.

Seconds pass, but they’re not uncomfortable. The shop’s atmosphere is different, now that Andrew understands. He has a pretty strong hunch that the over the top decor and effort put into it is Neil’s doing. This is simply his element, and he is adrift in Neil’s orbit. Neil might be the spirit of autumn, or something far more ominous and horrible, but Andrew feels like he’s already drowning in it.

It isn’t an unpleasant sensation. It leaves a warm curl of interest in Andrew’s stomach and for the first time in a long time he doesn’t necessarily want to push it down or hide it away.

Neil blinks at him, tugging at the sleeve of his button down. His eyes glance over to the shelves, then to Andrew, then behind him. 

“No,” Neil says, and Andrew ignores the rare blip of disappointment in his chest. He nods and pulls back, but then Neil continues softly. “Not this time.”

Andrew’s gaze snaps up to him, eyeing the tense set to his shoulders and the excitement in his eyes. Now, Andrew is regretting not coming to this place alone. Maybe if he was, Neil would give him the rundown now. 

But that’s alright. It’s not like he wants his family breathing down his neck while he listens to a pretty boy talk his ear off. That should be just for him. 

Andrew nods, and grabs the DVD without care. He tosses it back at Aaron without warning, and hears the terrified shriek he lets out. It’s worth it, for the way Neil smirks. 

“Then the next,” Andrew poses, and he’s really not sure what he’s doing anymore. But Neil shakes his head, and there’s a calmness there, which makes it all strangely worth it. 

“Will there be a next?” Neil fishes, and oh, this is definitely a bad idea. 

But the word comes smooth and instantly. “Yes.”

Neil only shrugs, rolling his eyes as he turns away without a goodbye to rearrange the shelf of decorations behind him, but Andrew feels eyes on his back when he turns away. 

When he steps out of the store, he revises his opinion. Autumn is still in full swing, but it pales in comparison now, and that leaves him so light it’s aggravating. 

He rewinds the interaction in his head with every step, and is no closer to an answer than before. Some things never have an answer, he reasons, and he’s taking a chance chasing one anyways. 

_Nothing to lose_ , he reminds himself. Nothing at all. 

They walk silently back to their apartment for two minutes before Nicky says, “Um...so, did you just get rejected?”

Aaron sounds equally lost, trying to get any clues from Andrew’s lack of expression. “ _That_ was flirting?”

“Andrew? Andrew!” 

And Andrew, ever the asshole, leaves them in silence.

On the inside, however, he has to disagree with Nicky. His cousin missed the mark, as usual. 

Despite all of Andrew’s turmoil, he thinks that went surprisingly well. 

\--

Andrew goes back to the video store. 

Of course he goes back. There was a brief moment where he thought that maybe he shouldn’t, that he should let the memory of Neil exist in his mind undisturbed. But then he knew that memory was never as satisfying as reality, and if given too much time to ruminate on the image of Neil, that it would start to become distorted and inconsistent. Much like a piece of film left to soak in solution for too long, washed out and faded. 

He’s not sure why, but he just couldn’t have that. The sharp details and otherworldliness of the redhead is something Andrew wants cemented in his brain, bottled up and unchanged so he can remember he is indeed real.

For once, and maybe this will be the only time that this is true, reality is better than any fantasy that Andrew’s mind can warp and reinterpret. 

So he follows the uneven sidewalk drenched in leaves and wrappers, and ends up back at the place which may or may not exist. 

The video store is much the same as it was the first time that he came. Only now the scent of cinnamon has been replaced with something wooden and burning, like there is a bonfire in the middle of the store, filling the entire room with smoke. 

There isn’t a real fire, but it’s a close enough thing, and Andrew is reminded of the wooden statue in the window, singing despair and festivity all at once. This time the store is empty, void of any customers, and the only real sound is the humming from the fog machine in the back. Andrew goes over to the counter and pokes the animatronic spider there; it whirs to life, its legs kicking out in every direction. 

“Oh. You came back.” 

Andrew does not startle, nor do his senses switch to high alert. It’s odd, how Neil carries with him a sense of eerie calm. Andrew isn’t wary of him, but he does marvel at how Neil appeared out of nowhere. No footsteps, no stuttering breath. A ghost, moving amongst the living. 

The lack of fear is enough to make Andrew turn slowly, so he can brace himself this time. 

Neil stands just a step behind him, a stack of movies in hand that he must have been putting back on the shelves. He’s wearing a frilly light blue shirt with puffed sleeves and white laces on the edges. He catches Andrew staring, which isn’t hard because Andrew just can’t fucking help himself, and then gestures down at himself vaguely. The tapes in his arms jostle. 

“The Shining,” Neil says, making a point to tug on the lacey ends of his loose fitting shirt. “Not that you would understand that reference.” 

“It’s why I’m here isn’t it?” Andrew says, even though he has definitely heard of the movie before. He's just never actually seen it, which means he has absolutely no understanding of the reference. 

A point against him, indeed. 

Again, Andrew doesn’t know why he’s _flirting_ , if it can even be called that. Things like this have never felt like such a game before, not when he’s usually straightforward. But it seems like Neil brings out something in him that has been lying dormant for a long time, a part of him that enjoys the cat and mouse effect of their conversations rather than being blunt. 

_Interest_. Playfulness. Dangerous and all controlling. 

But after evaluating, he finds he still doesn’t want to turn away. 

“I didn’t think you’d take up my offer,” Neil says seriously, eyes scrunching up cutely. 

Andrew wonders if this has happened before. No, with how appealing Neil is, he’s sure it has. A customer coming in and saying they're interested, Neil being difficult to tie down and refusing to be swayed by frivolous flirting, and Neil fully expecting them to never come back. Andrew would bet that they usually don’t. 

Andrew can imagine it; most people could only bear a few seconds of complete dismissal before losing interest. But not Andrew. It’s a challenge, but more than that, it’s a way to spend time that doesn’t feel like settling. He’s more than willing to accept whatever Neil offers. 

“Well I’m here,” Andrew says. Neil’s expression is hard to read but it cuts like glass, thoughtful, assessing. 

“So it seems,” Neil says. He steps around the counter, dropping his stack of movies down as he passes, and then adjusts one of the small sugar pumpkins just a centimeter to the left as if it had been pushed out of place. Andrew watches his strange attention to detail and wonders if he’s like this everywhere else. If he obsessively puts together his decorations at home with as much care. 

They might be even more immaculate and thought out.

“I find it hard to believe that you’re really interested in what I have to say,” Neil says, leaning forward on the counter, making his shirt sleeves puff up around his ears. Andrew swallows at the contrast of the adorableness with the look of disappointment in his eyes. Ah, so it _has_ happened before. 

Neil squints at him. “If I recall correctly, your friends were the ones causing a scene while you stood off to the side looking lost.” 

_Observant_ _little shit_. 

“They’re not my friends,” Andrew clarifies. “Relatives.”

“Right,” Neil says with a click of his tongue, “One of them shared your face but not your attitude.” 

“So you have eyes,” Andrew says, because the last thing he wants to hear about is _Aaron_. Gross. “Tell me something that isn’t so incredibly boring or obvious.” 

Neil tilts his head to the side and it’s cute in a curious way that has Andrew mimicking the motion again, which only serves to make Neil’s eyes flare and his jaw tighten. 

_Observant and stupidly handsome,_ Andrew revises. 

“Okay,” Neil says, and he stands up straight and pats down the sleeves of his shirt. Andrew feels dizzy, watching him twirl in place. Neil seems to think, tapping his finger on his chin, and starts small. “Have you _ever_ seen a horror movie before?”

_That_ is something Andrew has to think about. He can’t remember the last time he saw a horror movie, and even if his memory is picture perfect, he has a tendency to warp his own thoughts around, mixing his reality with his overactive imagination. 

He traces his track of memories back to his preteen years, spent in front of a television at one of his more hectic foster homes. They never bothered to monitor what he watched, and parental blocks were unheard of. He recalls staying up late and soaking in the images without really making sense of them, but he does recall the blood and guts well enough. 

“Yes,”Andrew replies then, because he has, but he has never watched one all the way through. He either lost interest or grew tirelessly frustrated with the protagonists. He suspects that Neil will ask him which one and to that end Andrew has no answer, he’s only ever walked in on Nicky and Aaron halfway through a movie with no real idea about the plot or story or even the title. 

“Which one?” Neil asks. His body is filled with an anticipatory tension, down to the tips of his fingers, which tap against the glass case. Andrew hadn’t noticed it before, but there’s polymer clay stuck under his nails. He looks keenly interested, his eyes catching with excitement and light. Where Andrew’s mind is a file cabinet of moments and dull facts, he wonders if Neil’s is an archival library of horror, ready to pick out Andrew’s title from the racks.

Andrew realizes quickly how absolutely out of his element he really is. Neil is fixated on something that Andrew could never enjoy with the same amount of enthusiasm. He stuffs down the discomfort in his stomach, an old urge from the past telling him how foolish it was to engineer some weird hope that this could go anywhere. At this point he knows he should leave; he has no business wasting Neil’s time.

But he _can’t,_ or at least he doesn’t want to.

Andrew shrugs. “Don’t remember.”

But instead of closing off the way Andrew expected, Neil looks only somewhat annoyed. He throws his head back in exasperation and lets out a quiet single _hah_ before saying, “You’re hopeless.” 

He doesn’t know how right he is.

But then Neil is all renewed energy and conviction, and Andrew traces the edges of his shy smile. He looks back down at Andrew, then says, “Guess we’ll just have to start from scratch.” 

Neil plops his fist in his hand to punctuate the statement, determined. Andrew’s still lost. 

Andrew’s voice is lacking all inflection, but he opens up his expression enough to let Neil know he’s listening. “Explain.”  
  
“What I mean,” Neil starts, and he’s already excitedly flitting between the counter and the bag he has on the chair. There’s Halloween pins on it. He rifles through it momentarily before sighing, clearly not finding what he wanted. “Is that we can start at the beginning! I have a list with every horror movie per era that’s worth a damn. I don’t have it _on_ me but, if you come back—” 

Neil teeters off and gives Andrew a look that’s equal parts hopeful and curious. His hands stop their anxious fidgeting to tug at one of his puffy sleeves, and Andrew’s not sure what he’s done to earn this much expectation.

Neil really has no right to look at him like this, but then again Andrew is the same, isn’t he? He’s already thrown himself into Neil’s orbit with an almost pathetic desperation, and he hasn’t wanted to take back a singular moment.

Perhaps they’re both unaware of what’s happening, under the influence of forces unknown. Andrew scoffs to himself. Now he’s really losing it.

Neil’s invitation feels like a big test, like Andrew is being put through a trial to see how interested or how invested he is. It’s a dance Andrew is familiar with, because for so long he did it to others. Neil puts up temporary roadblocks so he can question Andrew’s worth, his genuineness. It’s subtle but smart, and Andrew can’t help but think that it’s more interesting than anything he’s experienced before. Especially when it comes to something like this. 

“Are you asking me to come back?” Andrew asks, and doesn’t expect the easy admission that follows. 

“Yes,” Neil answers immediately, and he jumps back a little, maybe even surprised with himself. He clasps his hands down in front of him, and shifts weight from one foot to the other. He still hasn’t caught on that Andrew is flirting, or that maybe he’s flirting back. Andrew doesn’t need to put the label on it. It makes his stomach swirl all the same. 

“Fine,” Andrew says. He pokes Neil’s spider again and moves his pumpkin the slightest bit to the right instead of the left. Neil just gives him a tired expression and moves it back almost immediately.

Andrew does it once more before Neil blocks him, lightning fast reflexes, and Andrew has never had to fight a smile before, but the muscles on his face creak with the need to move. 

Regardless of the huffiness with which Neil waves him away, Andrew follows the amusement laced in those blue eyes, and soaks it up all the way home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! We're going to be updating this quite frequently since we're excited and it's all finished lol, and we'll post the last chapter on Halloween! Stay tuned <3
> 
> The title is a line from Scream (1996)! 
> 
> Here are the links to Neil's outfit inspirations seen in this chapter, as well as the link to Neil's list for your own spooky viewing ;)
> 
> [Neil's list](https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vTbiQ5SNx2GsQb7NOIANrSkIp4IIU0C5eF3tN059sd9w3xG56ZJ5FHV0JixXwqzmtRkE6hZ85aV9_ge/pub)   
>  [Laurie Strode](https://fastly.syfy.com/sites/syfy/files/styles/1200x680_hero/public/syfywire_blog_post/2018/10/img_7136.png?offset-x=89&offset-y=0)   
>  [the twins from The Shining](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/2e/1c/01/2e1c0165442285dfe1aee63d95dc3c84.jpg)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're baaaaaack
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments on chapter 1, we read them all and really appreciated every single one (and omg pls do leave your horror movie recs/faves, we had such a good time talking about them!) <3
> 
> We hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Andrew does not give himself boundaries when it comes to the video store.

There is no such thing as excess as far as he’s concerned, and it does not occur to him how odd that is until it’s already too late. If he’s near the store, he’s obligated to step inside, and the following two weeks are a whirlwind of movie descriptions and the precise chime of the cash register breaking up Neil’s detailed summaries.

If he repeats the sounds later when he’s alone, it’s almost like a song.

The rhythmic ring and slide of the drawer as Neil counts bills and change blends easily into the summary of one movie to the next, easing Neil’s frustrations as he recounts supposedly horrible effects and CGI.

Andrew is there almost everyday, and by the time he notices, it’s too late to wonder whether or not he seems pathetic. He does not care. If Neil notices or finds him strange for spending all his non-work hours in the store, he doesn’t say anything, and the wariness he dons with each of Andrew’s appearances slowly dwindles until he’s no longer surprised to see him.

Andrew feels like he’s in a time loop, but has no desire to leave. He’s always been a fan of routine, and this one checks all the boxes and then some. It’s simple; he comes into the store with an offering of some sort, whether it be a pack of Halloween stickers or something as basic as orange post-its, and soaks in whatever Neil has to offer.

Neil’s list is expansive, organized. It’s bolded with headings and dates and things Andrew wants to mess up and distort. And he does. He often steers Neil away from his list to ask about the movie Neil is modeling with his new outfit, and even when Neil complains about the disjointed era of the film, he indulges Andrew.

That’s something that Andrew quickly figures out. The clothes Neil models are the movies he really has a love for, his eyes light up when Andrew asks and if he’s feeling particularly proud, he’ll turn around in a full circle to show off. It’s frustratingly endearing.

He lets Neil talk about whatever movie is next on the list, giving the general premise, characters, any iconic cinematography references that Andrew might know due to their prevalence in popular culture.

That part is fine. Andrew prefers when Neil gives his own opinion at the end though. He’s picky, and unforgiving. When he loves a film, his eyes shine and he flails while he speaks of the film’s ingenuity, the uniqueness or surrealness offered which other films tend to miss. But oh, when he hates one, it’s like an explosion of fireworks behind the counter. Piercing insults and firm harpooning that would make any aspiring filmmaker cower.

Andrew always considered himself to have attention to detail, but he realizes remembering them is not enough. Neil’s analysis of themes, which should mean nothing to him, has Andrew shaping movies and soundtracks he’s never seen before.

He gets lost in this once he’s used to it, and that’s why it manages to throw him off when Neil throws a wrench in their routine. Well, he can’t blame Neil completely. The itch in Andrew’s brain, craving, has probably been here for some time.

It’s just that it can no longer wait.

Today, they’re discussing zombie apocalypse horror movies, something that Andrew actually finds interesting, and he eyes the spread Neil has laid out in front of them. The store is empty due to the light drizzle outside, and Neil taps his hands eagerly on the glass. “So you’ve been watching some of my recommendations right? Night of the Living Dead is a _classic_ zombie movie. It’s at the top of the list and—”

“I’ve tried,” Andrew says, and he’s not really lying but he isn’t telling the whole truth either. This is when the itch becomes apparent.

He’s found some of the movies online and has sat down with a carton of ice cream in the privacy of his bedroom to try and make his way through them, but it doesn’t work. The majority of his interest in this list is from being in close proximity to Neil. His enthusiasm carries Andrew through the ramblings until he feels like the interest is his own. He enjoys the lilts of Neil’s voice, the giddiness. It’s weirdly infectious, and he cannot manage without it. He admits, “It’s hard to focus.”

Neil’s face falls.

“How so?” Neil asks, confused, and brings his hands back towards his body. Andrew barely realizes that they’d been in his bubble this whole time, and he hadn’t minded. He can’t help the small tilt of his lips though; it’s as if Neil worries that he’s recommended something Andrew hadn’t enjoyed, and it’s devastating. Andrew sighs. What is he supposed to do about this? He’s ruined, truly.

Neil fumbles. “It’s sort of a slow movie but a lot of the older ones are. I promise it picks up...”

Neil looks so _hopeful_ and Andrew’s stomach hurts a bit, but he can’t completely name the emotion that’s storming through him like a tidal wave. He _wants_ and it feels like taking a leap of faith off of a very high ledge into dangerous waters. He wants to say _it would be better if you were there_ or _it’s not worth it if you aren’t rambling the entire way through_.

He wonders what Neil would look like, sitting next to him with a movie on the TV in front of them. Would he tuck his legs under himself when he sits? How would the colors look, flashing against his scarred skin?

Andrew would bet money that he has the tendency to talk throughout the entire film, spilling out facts about filming or the writing, or things that a reasonable person wouldn’t initially notice unless they had done research.

Andrew wants to know what it would be like to be with him in a different setting, wonders if Neil would be open to the idea of walking Andrew through those movies _together_ rather than separately.

He tells himself it’s not a big deal. If Neil says no then Andrew can probably just move on, leave this for what it was, something to pass the time. He knows then, that this truly is greed. He will stay with Neil for as long as he can, even if this is where it ends. But he can’t help but admit that it would probably hurt. At least a little bit. Andrew decides to take that dangerous leap anyways, and see if the waters are as sharp and brutal as he fears.

It would be no surprise. His life has been a majority of disappointments, only soothed in the past few years. It’s been a process, but now he is able to face the possibility of such disappointments without the same burning resentment.

Neil, as much as Andrew hates to admit it, makes the possibility worth it.

“It would be more interesting if you were there,” Andrew admits, and he tries not to look Neil in the eye as he says it, but Andrew isn’t the type of person to shy away from the truth. So he looks up and catches the bright hues that attracted his attention in the first place. “You should know well enough by now, I don’t care about this stuff as much as you do.”

Neil’s face is contemplative, and he tilts his head in the way he does when he’s thinking about something. Andrew can predict the exact moment he’s about to speak from the way his nose wrinkles. “But?”

“But,” Andrew starts, trailing off before he can find his ground again. “There are worse things than hearing you talk about them.”

Neil looks stricken by the words. Andrew can’t tell if he’s happy or upset by the quiet confession. But then his shy smile makes a reappearance, softening his features.

“Do you,” Neil starts and then stops. He fiddles with the edges of his striped sweater, a homage to Nightmare on Elm Street, with a touch of anxious energy that Neil constantly carries around himself. “Do you want to watch them _with_ me?”

Andrew thought _he_ would be the one to ask, but it seems that Neil is on the same page with him without Andrew having to say anything.

“Sure,” Andrew says, trying to sound casual and unaffected, all the while his stomach is flopping like a fish out of water. “If you want.”

Neil gives him an amused look, eyes shining. “Isn't it what _you_ want?”

And as much as Andrew wants to refute it, as much as his past instinct would’ve told him to turn around and walk back rather than admit a smidge of vulnerability, he finds himself nodding once.

It’s more than enough for Neil.

With the way Neil is looking at him, Andrew might as well be one of his favorite movies. Director’s cut and everything.

A gaggle of teens enter the store, bringing in the gust of wind and jingling bells. Neil bites his lip as he looks behind Andrew, and before he’s off to assist them, he’s ducking his head one last time, and gives the sacred list to Andrew for safe keeping.

Andrew’s hands have never been gentle, but he holds the list with a featherlight touch before he even knows what he’s doing.

Neil holds the other end a second too long, and he sounds as breathless as Andrew feels.

And if they’re both walking this hopeless road, then at least they’re going together.

“I’m off at seven.”

And if Andrew sets an alarm, it’s nobody’s business but his own.

\--

“I picked this place because it reminds me of one of those old hotels,” Neil admits sheepishly when he’s ushering Andrew up the creaking stairs of his apartment complex.

There’s a nervous tapping to Neil’s hands as his fingertips glide along the faded banister, and Andrew would feel smug if it weren’t for his own restless pacing outside the video store earlier.

Neil is right though, and Andrew’s not sure why he expected anything less. Everything about Neil has character, down to his colored shoelaces. Why should the place he lives be any different?

Andrew can’t tell if it used to be a motel or a retirement home. Maybe both. As he climbs, he’s assaulted by the smell of mothballs and clothes left in the dryer too long. He reaches his hand out despite his phobia of germs, and his calloused hands scrape against the light pink wallpaper. It used to have roses on it, he thinks. Now it’s just pink swirls every few inches, obscured by stripes which surely weren’t pretty even back when this place was in its prime.

Whenever that was. It has to be older than the video store at least, and the white stucco walls outside are cracked and wearing. Popcorn ceilings and old lamps aside, the wall fixtures and parts of the foundation haven’t been touched in years. Some portions have managed to completely crumble away to reveal dark red bricks.

The rest of the property is well maintained with a scattering of potted plants in front of apartment doors and well-groomed shrubbery that someone probably comes round to clean up every couple of weeks. It’s still sort of a creepy place; the whole time they’ve been walking through the halls, Andrew hasn’t seen a single resident. The only evidence they exist is the occasional whisper through locked doors and the thump of footsteps above. Despite Neil’s apartment being on the third floor, there are trails of dead leaves tracking up the metal staircase and onto each landing, where rows of apartment doors are lined up like old motel rooms.

Andrew can pick out Neil’s apartment without him having to say anything. Andrew was right about Neil’s enthusiastic decorating habits. There are large, oddly shaped pumpkins sitting out in front of the apartment door. The carvings fit the shape, whether it be the unsightly curve of a witch’s chin or the tail of a cat. The knife work must’ve taken hours. There’s a corn stalk neatly leaning against the wall with a straw rope tie holding it all together, and above the door is a string of hanging bat lights.

No other apartment looks as well decorated for the season, but then again Andrew has never met someone with as much enthusiasm about fall as Neil, who seems to exude the very essence of Halloween. Neil stops at the door and smirks at Andrew’s expression.  
  
“I like to decorate,” Neil says.

“I hadn’t noticed.” Andrew lets the sarcasm drip into his tone just for Neil, which makes his rich blue eyes shine with amusement. It’s uncanny how much subtle emotion Andrew has allowed to bleed into his demeanor, if only to get those rare reactions.

Then, Neil hesitates. He turns to the door once, back to Andrew, and then back again.

“Maybe I should warn you,” Neil starts, but then he’s pulling out his key to unlock the front door. There’s a normal key, and a decorative skeleton key next to it. Neil bites his bottom lip. “Or maybe it’s better if you just see for yourself.”

Andrew has no idea what the fuck that means but then the door is being pushed open and the lights are turned on. Suddenly, Andrew absolutely understands what Neil was going to warn him about.

He really shouldn’t be surprised by the over decorating or the overall horror theme that seems to seep into every aspect of Neil’s living space. He’s beginning to learn he should never underestimate Neil when it comes to these things.

The attention to detail is excessive, in a way that only Neil can make painfully endearing.

It puts the video store to shame. Every surface of Neil’s living room is covered in some type of horror movie memorabilia, and the walls and floors match. Dark wood is set against stark white, Andrew blinks, and half expects to see ritualistic candles lining the walkway. But there’s none of that.

The candles are LED. Which makes Andrew feel a lot better about the possibility of being Neil’s human sacrifice. He honestly wonders if he would put up a fight.

Even the shelves that line the walls around Neil’s TV are shaped like coffins. Fucking coffins. From the bookshelves to the hearse shaped coffee table, complete with resin spider coasters, there is nothing that has not seen Neil’s influence and adoration when it comes to his hobby.

It’s almost laughable how right the entire place feels. The walls are white but there are enough posters and paintings hanging that it’s barely visible with the lack of space. Graphic movie posters, blown up comic strips, and abstract paintings wash the wall in mixes of monotone, black, and fresh blood. Andrew recognizes some of them from his conversations with Neil. A woman holding a knife as she runs from her deranged husband, a creature ascending from a foggy swamp…

It’s gruesome. It’s lovely. It’s...home. Even Andrew, who has never really felt a warm attachment to the word, can feel the cozyness Neil has etched into this place. There is even a black cat tree hidden away in the corner of the room, matching the rest of the mostly black furniture.

“I _sort_ of warned you,” Neil says, looking a bit apologetic. He’s standing in the corner in his outfit, his cute, way too out of date outfit. And he fits right in. At Andrew’s silence, Neil gestures to the room, and there’s another rare gift Andrew doesn’t get to see often. Self-consciousness. Neil wrings his hands together, and Andrew crushes the urge to pry them apart. “It’s a lot.”

Neil, despite being in his element, is still a beacon to Andrew. He stands out around the mostly dark furnishings and decorations. A bright spot of color surrounded by darkness, and Andrew can’t find it in himself to be put off by the entire sight. It’s comforting in a way that doesn’t make sense, and he can’t help but think that this is exactly how someone like Neil should be living.

“I’m not surprised,” Andrew says after some time. He taps the hardwood dining table as he passes it, noting the cobweb mats. He takes a final step into the apartment before he turns at the sound of Neil locking them in. It brings him no sense of dread, he doesn’t feel trapped. Even if he was...he can’t say he’s complaining. “It makes sense.”

Neil smiles warm and sweet and Andrew’s stomach tightens as it always seems to do around him.

The sound of a bell jingling catches Andrew off guard and Neil turns around in time for a small black cat to scurry its way into the living room. The collar around its neck is bright and colorful with little bells dangling off the edges. It looks like something that could be found in the Halloween section of the pet store and, once again, Andrew is _not_ surprised.

Neil leans over and scoops the small cat up, cooing at her quietly and scratching at her ear with great care.

“This is Penny,” Neil says. The cat takes the opportunity to reach up and nuzzle Neil’s face. Andrew isn’t jealous. “I hope you’re not allergic to cats.”

“Penny?” Andrew asks, because it’s such a mundane name and there is absolutely no way that Neil would give his cat a name like that unless it’s in reference to something. He reviews the female protagonists Neil has grilled him about, and comes up short.

Neil smirks as he says, “Like Pennywise from IT.”

_Of course._

Andrew throws his hands up, and lets Neil’s quiet laugh blend with the scent of burnt wood chips and pumpkin candles.

“I’m not allergic to cats,” Andrew says. “It’s fine.”

“Good,” Neil says. He lowers Penny back to the ground and the cat takes one look at Andrew before scurrying out of the living room.

 _Hmph_.

That’s when he realizes he really wished the cat had stayed. Without the distraction, the space between them descends into a giddy silence, with neither of them willing to break it and give in. That’s the problem with these cat and mouse games, Andrew notes.

But, Neil is braver than he is.

“So,” the redhead sighs, and claps his hands for emphasis. “Movie?”

Andrew shakes his head fondly, because _yes, Neil, a movie. That’s why I’m here._

He unearths Neil’s list from his pocket and smooths out the edges that managed to wrinkle before unfolding it gently and passing it off for Neil to look over.

Neil is immediately back in his groove, all excited energy and thoughtless bouncing as he moves over to the coffin shelves to look at the large collection of movies that are sitting there waiting for him.

He gives Andrew instructions to help himself to the assortment of teas and coffees in the kitchen, and Andrew finds two orange mugs already lined up. He notes that the hot chocolate section is untouched. Figures, with Neil’s hilarious abhorrence for sweets. Guess the Halloween influence can only stretch so far.

Andrew picks an almond tea for Neil, and no, it’s not because it matches his hair and smells like it could make Andrew drunk with warmth.

Not at all.

“We _could_ start with Night of the Living Dead, but that feels a bit out of order,” Neil says from the living room. He looks over his shoulder enough times for Andrew to worry about his neck. “We can start with something easy, Psycho perhaps? Dracula? Frankenstein?” He hums and looks over his list, and then his eyes trail up to the movies stacked in front of him.“House on Haunted Hill?” 

“I wonder what that one’s about,” Andrew quips, and turns away when Neil sticks his tongue out at him. “You decide. It doesn’t make a difference.”

_Either way, I get to hear you talk._

Neil looks over his shoulder at him with a smile that is the height of teasing. “I always have to make the tough decisions don’t I?”

Andrew doesn’t bother deeming that with a response. He watches as Neil pulls out a title from the shelf of movies and avoids staring too much at Neil’s butt as he wriggles in thought.

He wonders how it’s all organized, probably by date, maybe by genre. Either way Andrew knows that there must be method to the madness, considering how detailed Neil’s life is.

He notes that despite the care Neil puts into his collection and decorations, the sink is filled to the brim with dishes untouched, and there is unopened mail from England and other far off places piling up in the mail basket. Court orders, traffic tickets.

A curious web that Andrew is far too interested in unraveling.

Neil trots over to Andrew and holds up the casing to show off the cover of Psycho. He brings it right up to his face and covers his mouth, but Andrew can still tell he’s grinning. “It’s a good place to start. A true classic.”

“Aren’t the classics boring by default?” Andrew quips, because he knows it’s just the thing to get Neil riled up. He hides his grin in his hot chocolate.

“You take that back!” Neil gasps, and swats at Andrew without actually touching him. Andrew has never told him before that he’s antsy with touch, Neil just seemed to sense the boundaries. That, or he’s so used to his own, he projects them. Either way, Andrew resists the surprising impulse to tell Neil he wouldn’t mind. “Sorry I’m not showing you Saw right out of the gate, but good horror movies don’t _need_ blood and guts to be enjoyable!”

“What’s Saw?” Andrew asks, just to be an asshole.

“You’re hopeless.”

“Yet here I am,” Andrew mumbles almost to himself. _With you._

Andrew doesn’t say it aloud, but from the way Neil pauses, smile fading into something shy and unsure, he wonders if he might as well have. Then Neil is fussing with his fringe, moving his hands around as he rifles through the nearest drawers.

There might’ve been a time where Andrew would’ve been immediately smug over a pretty boy fluttering around him; now he’s just undone.

“I’ll be honest I have no idea what kind of snacks people like,” Neil states as he unearths a few bags of gummy worms and oreos. Andrew’s vision zeros in on them. Neil looks way too nervous given the blessing he is bestowing on Andrew in that very moment. “So I just grabbed random stuff...I usually eat raisins.”

Andrew isn’t twelve, so he doesn’t retch. But it’s hard. He swipes at the snacks with barely contained distaste. “You’re the real monster here, I hope you know that.”

And as usual, Neil’s laughter is music to his ears.

They dance around each other far too long in an exchange of cups and obvious glances, but eventually Neil ushers Andrew to the couch. He sinks into the cushions, unsure why they feel so soft, or if every mundane thing just happens to feel better when he’s around the horror enthusiast. Before Andrew even has a chance to register what’s happening, because _holy crap it’s happening, he’s here with **Neil** of all people,_ Neil has the movie in the player and the TV on.

They sit on opposite sides of the couch. He watches Neil’s hands fiddle with the loose threads of the cushion, unsure of what to do. Andrew doesn’t have the will or the need to push the gap, desire be damned. He wraps his hands tighter around the mug. Penny comes ringing back into the living room to save them, and with a shake of her head and a well timed jump, makes her way onto the couch and into Neil’s lap.

The way Neil visibly relaxes as his hands sink into her fur has Andrew involuntarily sinking further into the cushions.

Andrew doesn’t linger long on the realization that they’re nervous, if he acknowledges it at all.

“I hope you’re ready for one of the best movies of all time,” Neil says with a smile. He looks unreal dressed in a soft sweater, a cat perched on his lap. The dark interior of his living room makes him stand out like a bright smudge of red light. He’s far more vibrant than any of the posters on the wall, louder than the screams they depict.

Andrew tries to ease into Neil’s couch again, but he doesn’t really manage to get rid of the tension in his body until Neil hits play on the remote. Andrew wasn’t prepared to be able to focus on the movie; he knows himself well enough to admit he’ll be watching Neil’s reactions the entire time, but the opening is distracting enough.

The movie begins with a cityscape, and names and dates fly across the screen. Before they even appear, Neil is whispering them dramatically, and Andrew knows he’s in for a time.

“Friday, December the eleventh,” Neil says, voice pitched for dramatic effect. “Two forty-three P.M.”

“How many times have you seen this?”

“Not enough,” Neil sighs dreamily, and it’s all genuine. There’s a special fondness to Neil’s expression as he gazes at the black and white lines across the screen, the images devoid of life yet so coveted in Neil’s vibrant eyes.

“It paved the way for psychological horror movies,” Neil says quietly, under his breath with a great reverence. Andrew can’t help but lean in his direction from across the couch. “Hitchcock always knew how to make an audience uncomfortable.”

Neil’s eyes are shining as the movie rolls and, as expected, Andrew finds himself spending half of the time watching Neil rather than the film. It doesn’t really call out to him, and something about the black and white keeps it a touch away from reality and a touch away from being particularly scary.

The shadows do wonders for Neil’s face though.

Neil talks on and off through the movie. Pointing things out that Andrew probably wouldn’t have noticed and sharing facts about filming and the setting. When a particular scene that’s important comes on, Neil leans forward ever so slightly, his attention caught straight ahead, without much room to be interrupted. Andrew can’t help but think that everything about Neil is enticing. He’s caught up in Neil like a fly in a web, sucked into his own little world and tangled so tightly through sheer curiosity and interest alone.

When the shower scene comes on, Andrew tries not to react to the absurdity of it all, especially not when Neil claims that it’s iconic. He lets out a quiet snort at the awkward stabbing that lacks any real blood or wounds, and Neil ends up throwing a gummy worm in his direction in retaliation. Andrew just catches it and eats it with a smug look on his face, which makes Neil huff out a phantasmal laugh that has Andrew’s heart throbbing painfully.

They don’t end up moving any closer on the couch, but Andrew doesn’t feel a gap like before.

There’s something about the absurdity of it all, at Neil’s taken expression as the twist is revealed, that has Andrew asking something he never considered.

“Why horror movies?” His voice is a whisper, especially with the backdrop of screams and sharp notes. But Neil hears him. Those blue eyes, which reflect the dark greys and stark whites, shine in his direction. Andrew’s not sure what he’s looking for, but whatever Neil is offering him is not something he’ll take for granted.

Neil’s eyes lower until his gaze is almost somber with truth, serious and grave with much more realism than any horror movie could attempt to convey, even in the most terrible moments. It settles something cold in Andrew’s veins, but it’s more a comfort than anything. Despite the frigidness, Andrew greets the darkness in Neil’s eyes with understanding and acceptance.

He doesn’t need the details, he doesn’t need the memories. He just knows they’re the same.

So it’s no surprise to him when Neil swallows, and smiles back at the television. “I prefer these kinds of scares than the ones in the real world. They’re fun, they’re fake…”

“They end,” Andrew finishes, and it’s far from positive, far from cheery, but Neil grins at him like he just told him he won the lottery.

The movie intrigues him a little more after that.

However, things end indeed.

The film comes to a close faster than Andrew had anticipated, and he can’t help but be disappointed when it’s over. They sit in the quiet for a while, something Andrew had never appreciated the rare times he’d gone to see a movie. Usually as soon as the last scene faded he’d be up and out, maybe even before.

This time, he soaks in the feeling around it, the satisfaction and uncertainty mixing between them. Eventually, Neil turns off the TV, but doesn’t move to turn on the lights. The candles are enough, and Neil adjusts in his spot on the couch so he’s facing Andrew and leaning against the arm rest behind him. He looks too cozy, knees to his chest and smile expectant. Penny stands up, disturbed and annoyed at being shuffled around in her sleep, and jumps off the couch and scurries away.

“So,” Neil says, eyes bright and hopeful. “What did you think?”

“It was,” Andrew pauses and then says, “Interesting.”

Neil’s face lights up and Andrew realizes that he wants to keep that expression on his face, that he wants to make Neil smile like he is right now, elastic and open. Andrew takes in a breath and lets the thought settle like the falling leaves outside. He _wants_ and that’s a terrifying thought in and of itself, but no longer one he feels the need to push away.

It’s just...odd, like he’s momentarily underwater and has to remember how to float each time.

“It had an impact on you,” Neil says, and from anyone else, Andrew might scoff at the words. Most things impact him like a bug hitting the glass, trying to break through and not managing in the slightest. Futile. But Neil looks triumphant, like there was never any obstacle to be seen. “That’s all that matters to me.”

Andrew thinks _you had an impact on me_ but he keeps that to himself.

“The mom thing was a little weird,” Andrew admits. Neil lets out a laugh and nods.

“Good right?” Neil asks. He leans forward a little, and his outfit scrunches up cutely. It’s the first time Andrew has noticed the sleepiness, the messy hair and dark eyes. It’s a silly thought, but he imagines himself tucking Neil in and he has to beat his brain with a stick. “A twist right at the end.”

“I mean it was obvious,” Andrew says, and he leans back to watch as Penny scurries back into the room and stares up at him with wide yellow eyes. “There was no way that guy was normal.”

“Oo,” Neil says, dragging it out with a lightness in his voice. “Are you a natural detective?”

“Or the movie was too predictable,” Andrew replies.

“I bet I can find something that will stump you,” Neil says with a smile, but the gleam in his eyes tells Andrew he’s already rifling through the possibilities. Andrew almost regrets saying anything; he’s heard the stories of some pretty disturbing films. “I have a _very_ long list.”

“I know,” Andrew says, keeping his wariness in check. “You gave it to me.”

Neil smirks, like he can read Andrew’s mind anyways.

“Speaking of which,” Neil starts, and he grabs the list from the coffee table and holds it out for Andrew. “In case you want to watch more.”

And Andrew doesn’t want to seem too eager, because he’s not, but there’s no way he could avoid doing this again.

Rather than exploring the hypocrisy of that, he nods, and the flurry in his stomach isn’t from the abundance of sweets.

“We’ll watch more,” Andrew says, vows, whatever. Neil’s smile comes back ten-fold, and he knows it was the right thing to say.

“ _We_ will?” Neil teases lightly, but it has enough uncertainty in his tone for him to backpedal if need be. Andrew doesn’t give him the opportunity.

This time he decides to go for genuine, rather than sarcastic. Another metaphorical leap in his never ending fall with Neil.

“Yes.” Andrew tilts his head, and this time it’s Neil who follows mockingly, suppressing his laugh until it’s too much to ignore, and the uncertainty and shyness melts away. 

Andrew’s words are involuntary, but he doesn’t regret them. “We can just go through the whole list together.”

And he must be in a dream, or making his own with such a request. He doesn’t mind. He will carve out as much time as possible, fantasy or reality be damned. If Neil is there, he feels like the never ending free fall won’t stop, and he’ll never have to worry about hitting the ground.

Neil grins and settles back into the couch, and the thought of Andrew leaving doesn’t come up. Andrew can’t help but want to mirror the motion, but he keeps himself still and waits.

He’s starting to think Neil is just as much of an asshole as Andrew, because soon his pause stretches on so long, Andrew feels like he’s being dangled over the edge all over again. He nudges Neil’s foot and Neil finally laughs, and that may as well be a deal made in Andrew’s eyes.

But no, he likes to hear it. He wants the confirmation. And after a sigh, Neil gives it to him. “Okay. Let’s watch them all together.”

And even though it’s late, even though Neil has work the next day and Andrew has an editing deadline to meet, he stays for another hour, and has never felt safer than in Neil’s house of horrors.

\--

Like most things in Andrew’s life, it happens sort of unexpectedly. Where he used to spend most of his time bouncing between freelance editing projects, dealing with Aaron and Nicky, and occasionally going out for a drink on his own or with Kevin, he finds himself now with barely any time to breathe.

And it’s strangely addicting.

He stops by the video store several times a week, to the point where it becomes a habit. If he’s not there, he has to come up with reasons why.

Neil is always happy to see him, which is also new and unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Again, his lungs gasp for air, and he leans into the sensation. Most people would watch Andrew warily from afar, and it even took his own family a long time to change that.

But Neil isn’t like anyone else that Andrew has met in his life. He smiles brightly when he walks into the store and falls into step with Andrew. It’s a subtle dance of movements; Andrew leans back against the counter, tracing his fingers across the glass, and Neil fits into the space he leaves to talk Andrew’s ear off.

Andrew’s not nearly as talkative, but Neil makes him feel like he’s being included in the conversation anyways. He asks for input when it’s needed, and seems to coax out answers without making Andrew feel forced. Mostly though, he listens while Neil talks.

That’s the best part.

They have their _dates_ , although Andrew sort of hates to call them that. They spend one or two nights a week with a movie in Neil’s apartment to slowly work their way through Neil’s list. It always ends the same; at first Andrew was unsure if he should linger, but Neil made it clear that he enjoys post-movie rehashing as much as he does the actual film, so Andrew starts to stay longer.

They talk about the movie, the plot, the exasperation (that mostly comes from Andrew) and the fondness (which comes from Neil). They review plot points and characters and Andrew enjoys the act of picking apart a story while Neil tries to defend it.

 _It’s not perfect_ , Neil always says, _It doesn’t_ have _to be perfect._

Neil says it with such conviction, Andrew knows it’s a belief that goes far beyond the movies.

Sometimes Andrew is amazed by the things Neil says, like he’s read it straight off of the piece of paper he pulled out of a fortune cookie. It should be easy to rip up into little pieces or throw away, but Andrew carries his words and lets them play over and over in his head long after he’s gone home. He remembers the tilt of Neil’s smile and the sound of his laugh and lets those memories hold him over until they’re together again.

They don’t always talk about just the films. Learning about Neil is like unraveling an exceptionally long cord that’s been so tightly wound that it seems impossible to untangle. But Neil seems to slip the cord loose without much trouble, not with Andrew. He opens up slowly but surely, letting Andrew wade in the dark waters for as long as he needs to adjust before luring him in deeper. By this point, Andrew thinks he is just a bit closer to solving the never ending mystery that is Neil.

It starts with Night of the Living Dead.

_“I never understood this particular fear you know,” Neil confesses quietly as the chaos unfolds on screen. When Andrew looks at him, he’s an eerie sort of calm, like they’re watching history instead of fiction. Like Neil was there. “Post-apocalypse...I would do well. I grew up running, hiding, surviving. How different could it be?”_

There is no further explanation, and Andrew doesn’t ask. Instead, he hands Neil his list and his favorite sweater, draped across Andrew’s thighs, and doesn’t budge until Neil takes them.

It’s not much, but it’s a reminder that even if that were the case, Neil wouldn’t have these things. He wouldn’t have any of this, this small life of his, with archived movies and a place to sleep. He’s not sure how monumental that is in the grand scheme of things, but he knows it’s important to Neil. Neil takes them gratefully, and it’s enough to part the clouds in a silent confirmation.

Andrew is glad Neil is here, and not stuck in the past.

And it’s the same when Andrew seems to clam up at the end of Village of the Damned. Something about the film leaves him uneasy; even if the children are considered monsters, Andrew can’t stop seeing them for what they were, children.

Neil doesn’t probe, but Andrew tells him anyway. He admits to growing up in foster care on the other side of the country, but nothing else, unwilling to give away more than is absolutely necessary.

Neil doesn’t blink, doesn’t say sorry, just accepts and then asks Andrew if he wants to watch something else just to get the movie out of his head.

That night they end up jumping out of their careful movie order. Neil puts on something that’s newer, and frankly horrible, and Neil’s ranting and raving about the shoddy effects and bland characters has Andrew shaking off the weight.

He doesn’t usually like to admit either extreme end of his emotional spectrum, but he hates going home. It’s not that he doesn’t find it warm, or safe, but the sudden quiet is too stark of a contrast from the hours leading up to it. Aaron and Nicky are either asleep or holed up in their own rooms, and he’s left to stir in a surreal silence where he craves someone who’s not there.

Their apartment is bland, and he finds his paper-cut littered hands gliding across the square coffee table, the empty countertops. No decorations, no character. He never felt the need before, and he doesn’t now. It’s too much effort, too festive, but he can’t help but consider what it would look like. What it would be like to _live_ in a place where the walls reflect the people that reside there.

He just knows Neil would be downright appalled by the lack of decoration, and it has him falling back into the waters all over again.

How did he get here?

He’s never cared for things like this before. It’s never mattered, but then again he thinks a small part of himself is changing. He’s never been good at being with other people, has never been able to hold a steady conversation because words always felt like hollow, meaningless vessels that serve no real purpose. He has never wanted to hang posters or leave a mark on the space around him, all that mattered was that he had a bed to sleep in and a door that locked.

But all of that was _before_ Neil, and it isn’t that Neil is giving Andrew some newfound outlook into the world around him, but suddenly everything seems a touch more vibrant than it had before. Maybe Andrew always had a part of him that craved _more_ out of life but never tried to grasp it, not until he met someone with the same reflection of a haunted past in his eyes, living as if it didn’t weigh him down anymore.

Every moment he spends with Neil is important to him at this point, and Andrew doesn’t really want to unearth the reason why, because even he’s not delusional enough to have missed it.

“You really like that asshole video store guy, don’t you?”

Still, the last thing he needs is his brother pointing it out.

Andrew pauses where he’s sitting at his desk pouring over a manuscript, and at this point, the page is half red with how many notes he’s left. He likes his job well enough, the reclusiveness of it, the feeling of fixing something far removed from his own life, but sometimes these authors drag him through hell. That might be a good spin on a horror plot, he’ll have to tell Neil.

At Aaron’s words, he turns around, looking over at where his brother is eyeing him intensely over his bowl of Raisin Bran. First of all, gross. And second—

“Come again?” He hopes it sounds like _‘think wisely before answering.’_

But Aaron hasn’t been intimidated by Andrew in years, and he only scoffs as he goes over to Andrew’s bookshelf and waves around some of the newest additions. Some short stories, novellas, novels, all horror themed.

A lot of them are the novels that inspired the movies on Neil’s list. Andrew is just trying to get ahead. If he compares the books to the movies, he’s sure it’ll give Neil some new things to think about that he hasn’t been able to explore before. Neil had confessed he wasn’t a big reader, Andrew can only guess how the insights would delight him. It might result in Andrew pouring over the pages for hours, holed up in Neil’s apartment, but he fails to see the downside.

Realizing his thoughts are working hard to prove Aaron’s point, Andrew glares. “And?”

Aaron sighs, and if Andrew didn’t know any better, he’d say it’s almost teasing. He never imagined he’d be at this point with his brother, and yet now it’s as easy as breathing. It doesn’t mean he can’t be annoyed at Aaron’s words though. “Sometimes I think you’re still back in college, when you’re like this.”

And unfortunately, Andrew knows exactly what he means. It hasn’t been too long, but long enough for it to feel far away and blurry. Andrew, no matter how much he tries to not admit it, is different now. They all are.

Andrew from college wouldn’t recognize him, the one who was slogging through his courses, fighting with Aaron in therapy every Wednesday, and trying to deny he was capable of feeling anything at all.

Back then, it hadn’t felt so exhausting.

Andrew puts down his papers and spins his chair around, giving Aaron the floor. He raises his hands in a ‘well, go on’ motion, because he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t need to hear this. He and his brother never got past the awkwardness of it, of reaching out for help or confiding in one another.

But they _are_ good at calling each other out, and he thinks it gets them to the same place at the end of the day.

Aaron shakes his head and puts the books down, and adjusts the little polymer ghosts on Andrew’s bookshelf. Gifts from Neil.

And yes, Andrew knows the truth indeed. He can’t help this, can’t hide it. It’s a monster already, out of the shadows and unable to be contained. And maybe it’s a sign of his own growth, that he has no intention of trying to put it back in whatever box it came from.

Aaron smirks at him, and Andrew still hates him.

“All I’m saying is, it’s okay if you like him, or whatever,” Aaron grumbles, fake-reading the back of _The Mist._ At least he can’t escape some of the awkwardness. Aaron isn’t good with feelings, or with understanding Andrew’s. And he _definitely_ doesn’t want to talk about Andrew’s love life. But Andrew knows he will if he can tell Andrew is really in too deep, and that speaks more volumes than Andrew knows what to do with.

Because if Aaron is telling him to get a grip, then he must be wrapped so tight around Neil’s finger that there is no chance of letting go.

Aaron smirks again. “I mean, he sucks but...you’re being really gross and obvious about it, so you should just go for it.”

Andrew throws the nearest object at him, which happens to be one of Nicky’s ugly throw pillows, but doesn’t refute the statement in the slightest.

Aaron catches the pillow before it hits him or the shelves behind him and then tosses it back without even blinking. Andrew doesn’t bother to catch it out of the air, he just lets it hit his shoulder and slump to the floor between them.

“Should I say good luck?” Aaron asks, turning away so he can leave the room, “I think you might need it.”

Andrew reaches for the pillow again but Aaron is already out the door before Andrew even has a chance to threaten him with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! We're still set up to post the last chapter on Halloween, and it's the cheesiest yet so stay tuned ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!!!  
> Here is the last chapter of our spooky themed fic! Be prepared for max level of cheesiness (we aren't sorry).  
> Thank you so much for reading and we hope you enjoyed this light hearted fic!  
> Outfit references are at the end of the chapter.

They started watching the movies out of order, jumping straight into the 60’s with Psycho before backtracking to the 20’s. But since then, they haven’t jumped around much, if not for the occasional leap to the modern era when they need a good laugh. Now they’re heading straight into the 70’s, which Neil claims is the peak of slasher movie content, but not before they watch one of Neil’s favorites. It’s the last sample from the 60’s, and one Andrew has only vaguely heard of.

Once _Rosemary’s Baby_ had popped up as the next movie on their list, Neil hadn’t stopped talking about it, or trying _not_ to talk about it.

“I don’t want to spoil it!” Neil stated one afternoon at the video store, hands held close to his chest. “You’re going to love it though!”

And of course, Andrew doubts it. Since when has he loved anything?

Despite his lackluster reactions to almost every film on Neil’s list, Neil remains either hopeful or uncaring. Andrew wonders if he’s so used to watching the films alone, having company is enough to ignore the fact Andrew is far from a horror nerd.

Then again, Neil had called Andrew’s opinions ‘the best’ at one point, which Andrew had not understood in the slightest. He did, however, have an hour long freakout over it afterwards, wherein his face felt far too hot.

Either way, if Neil loves the film, maybe it’ll be exactly what Andrew needs to remember it fondly as well. He can’t help but be a little intrigued; Neil’s outfits always match the movies if he can manage it, _especially_ when it comes to his favorites.

Andrew is but a man.

With that in mind, he walks a little faster to Neil’s apartment that night.

The temperature outside is close to freezing at this time of year, and the warmth of Neil’s lobby is a welcome jolt as he lets in a gust of wind and dried leaves. As always, there are no other residents around, just the subtle trickle of music and muffled voices through the doors on the first floor.

Andrew is no longer put off by it, though he does wonder where the music comes from, and if it ever stops.

He knows the way to Neil’s apartment by heart now, and he follows the creaking steps and confusing hallways without any trouble until he gets to the ancient, off-white door. He knocks in a pre-agreed upon pattern, to let Neil know it’s him and not an intruder, before he lets himself in.

Over the past few weeks, he’s come to see even this as a powerful gesture, proof of Neil’s affection if nothing else. They hardly touch, if at all, but this feels almost more overwhelming. Neil’s paranoia knows no bounds, stemming from an equally jumpy mother and nights spent in less than ideal places.

Leaving his door open for Andrew, even if just for a few minutes, would horrify the Neil from a few months ago, so jaded and cautious. Out of respect, Andrew locks the door behind him and deadbolts it, and tries to find a flash of red and blue.

But Neil is missing.

Penny runs across the floor in fear before seeing that it’s Andrew, at which point her expression morphs back into bored annoyance, and she resumes her stroll. Andrew scoffs; how Neil found a cat with as much character as him is beyond Andrew.

He walks further into the warmth of the apartment; today, it smells like candy corn. Bottled, overpowering, and Andrew’s sweet tooth comes rearing its ugly head. It’s not that he’s been trying to cut back, no, not at all. But Neil is making it worse. On the counter, there’s a snack tray laid out, because Neil always has to go the extra mile to make Andrew that much more enamored with him. Damn Aaron, he was right.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” Neil’s voice calls just as Andrew is reaching out for the expertly arranged peanut butter cups, and Andrew stares in the direction of Neil’s hallway. It’s not that he’s never wondered, because of course he has. Neil will run in and out of his room some nights, bringing back souvenirs or merchandise from whatever movie they’re watching. However, Andrew has never been back there himself. Distantly, he hears the muffled, quick succession of a sewing machine. He can almost picture the needle piercing fabric in the blink of an eye, and it suddenly makes sense.

Neil makes his own outfits, after all.

Andrew pictures Neil’s hands doing the work, recalls seeing the occasional bandage wrapped around delicate, page worn fingertips. In a trance, Andrew pops a handful of M&Ms into his mouth before walking over, not crossing the threshold that marks the border between the common room and the hallway.

He listens. The drag of the needle, the hum. There’s a rhythm to the vibrations, and Andrew nearly gets lost in it when it stops all of a sudden.

At first, he figures Neil is just adjusting, changing out the thread maybe, but there’s a heaviness growing which makes him rethink that. The walls are so thin, he should be able to hear a shuffle, a click. But there’s nothing. Fondly, secretly, Andrew lets the corners up his mouth tick up, and he shakes his head.

He braces his hand against the wall, letting the creak carry through the small space so Neil can hear. So Neil can know he’s still there, waiting. As if answering the unspoken question, Neil calls out. “Um...I’m just fixing one of my sleeves. It’ll be a few minutes. Did you want to come over here?”

Oh, Neil has no idea. But it’s not up to him.

Andrew takes one tentative step forward. “Do you want me to come over there?”

There’s a huff of Neil’s laughter, and maybe he knows it too, how silly they’re being. It’s not a big deal, it just feels like one. Neil doesn’t own much, so there’s not much to keep secret. But because of that, it would be oh so easy to give Andrew all of it. His crafting room, his home. Andrew thinks he already has a lot more than that, but with Neil, he’ll take anything offered.

He ignores the fact he’s also just as willing to give. They only need to meet in the middle, and he fears they’d unravel completely. 

Another pause, and then, “Yes.”

And when Neil sounds like that, so shy and sated, how can Andrew do anything other than move forward?

The sewing room is small, but it’s packed to the brim with enough fabric and containers full of buttons and sewing equipment. It doesn’t really match the rest of Neil’s apartment. The walls are mostly free of cluttered posters or decorations and the fabrics are stacked in such varying shades of color that it doesn’t hold the same dark, gloomy feeling as the rest of the home.

The room has a way of making him feel like the sun is still out, when daylight had come and gone hours ago.

It’s still very Neil somehow, quiet. Neil’s sitting in front of a sewing machine that’s the same color of his eyes. Andrew hesitates in the door, because a part of him feels like he’s intruding, taking something that he hasn’t been explicitly given.

Neil doesn’t let him hesitate. He looks over his shoulder and gives a sort of shy smile.

“Sorry,” Neil says, and he holds up the loose end of a sleeve that’s laid over the sewing machine, a needle still pierced through the fabric. “It was done but Penny’s claw got caught in one of the sleeves.” He sighs. “That’s what I get for making them from tulle.”

Andrew leans against the doorway and Neil watches him, chewing on his lower lip like he wants to say something but can’t find the words.  
  
“Do you want to come in?” Neil asks, gesturing towards a chair that’s tucked away between the sewing machine and a wire rack full of clear boxes. The hinge of the chair looks close to being broken, probably from too much weight being stacked on top of it over the years. “You can sit.”

Andrew makes his way over to the empty chair, taking one of the hundred cookie tins with him, and takes a seat. When he opens it out of curiosity, it’s filled with thread, ordered by color and size. 

“You really don’t do anything half-assed do you?” Andrew asks, looking around the room one last time before letting his eyes settle on Neil and only Neil.

Neil lets out a laugh and looks a bit surprised by the words, but he shrugs and looks back down to his sewing, the machine kicking back to life as he runs the last bit of fabric through.

“You might be the only one to ever tell me that,” Neil says, and Andrew suddenly recalls the messy mail bucket, the way Neil’s distant family is constantly checking on him to make sure he’s alive. Regardless of the implication, Andrew respects that about Neil too. He doesn’t give in and doesn’t sway easily. Most admirably he doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.

For all his passion, he’s still a person. Passion is a strong, almost unforgiving thing. It can come and go, leaving destruction in its wake.

“You haven’t given me reason to believe otherwise,” Andrew replies, and he’s sure Neil doesn’t understand what he means. Even if Neil stopped all this, if he lost his love for crafting, for horror…

He’d still be so full of life in Andrew’s eyes.

“I guess not,” Neil sighs, “I never really had the chance to just _enjoy_ things when I was younger. Now that I can, well, I might take it a bit too far.”

Andrew realizes that he had the exact opposite reaction when he was finally free to be his own person. He pushed everything away. Far too afraid to let anything get too close or find a permanent home in his chest. It was safer than having it all ripped away from him again.

But he can understand where Neil is coming from. The desire to be surrounded by the things he enjoys, unashamed. To finally have the chance to keep something and know that it is yours. To be able to just live in a world that you can create for yourself. Andrew sees it, appreciates it, admires it even.

Neil does something with the metal rod and thread and needle that Andrew doesn’t understand in the slightest, until the shirt is coming loose and Neil is standing up from the machine and holding it out in front of him to be inspected.

“I had to make an entirely new sleeve,” Neil says, something akin to a grimace on his face. He runs his hand over the fabric and tilts his head as he examines the fine stitching that is too small and precise for Andrew to even make out.

The shirt is a bit intricate in design and looks like something out of a housewives magazine from the 60’s. Neil quickly tucks it away before Andrew can get a good look.

“I’m going to change,” Neil says. He gestures for Andrew to stand and starts ushering him out the door as soon as he’s up, and Andrew nearly leans back out of protest. “I put snacks out for you by the sofa too, so just wait for me.”

Andrew’s need to be playful shrivels up. There’s an antsy feeling that wasn’t there before from the way Neil bustles, cheeks dusted red. Andrew wonders if he regrets letting him into the room, but the clues don’t add up, and he drops the theory.

“Pushy,” Andrew says over his shoulder just to hear Neil laugh, and then the redhead is pushing against the air like he’s touching Andrew’s back. The phantom touch is enough to make Andrew shiver.

“Out,” Neil says with a light tone. Andrew rolls his eyes and leaves the sewing room only to be greeted with a poster from _The Shining_ , and hears Neil slam the door shut behind him. One day, he’ll ask Neil if he can watch him make something from the first step.

Penny stands at the end of the hall watching Andrew warily before flicking her tail and walking off with a bit of pep in her step.

“You’re both so rude,” Andrew says under his breath when he passes her on his way into the living room. She ignores him in favor of jumping onto her cat tree and perching just above the couch.

Andrew picks around at the snacks on the couch until he can hear the door down the hall opening and closing with a soft click. Andrew looks up in time to catch Neil standing in the hallway, looking a bit unsure of himself and wearing the shirt he had just been sewing back together.

Andrew really _can’t_ blame himself for the burning feeling that rises up from his chest to his neck, and he’s very aware that his skin must be an angry red from all of the blood suddenly flooding to his head.

Ah, Neil must really love this movie.

The shirt is patterned with thin gray plaid, and there’s a white rounded collar that drapes just over Neil’s shoulders. Two large, oversized white buttons track down the center, and Andrew wonders if they’re functional. If they pop.

Neil’s sleeves are puffy, sheer white tulle with curled cuffs. All of this is laid on top of a pair of tight black jeans that really do nothing but show off the curved muscle of Neil’s legs and Andrew’s heart _really, really_ can’t handle this.

It’s just cruel. Especially when Andrew’s eyes travel back up to Neil’s face only to find that he has a felt boater hat atop his head with stray pieces of red hair sticking out. Neil doesn’t look _embarrassed,_ but he looks uneasy, as if he expects Andrew to make a snide comment and walk away.

He adjusts his hat gently, until it’s tilted just so, and Andrew’s heart leaps another bound.

Of course, Andrew _doesn’t_ actually know what to say and somehow being silent feels like it’s a lot worse, so he sits forward on the couch until he’s just barely on the cushion, and reaches out his hands.“Come here.”

Neil doesn’t expect that, but surprise is better than being closed off. He blinks once, and then Neil reluctantly walks over, trying to parse Andrew’s expression for clues. It’s not fear, because Neil couldn’t care less about other people’s approval in most cases. But if Neil is a constant exception for Andrew, Andrew figures it might be the same for Neil.

Somehow, that helps Andrew move past his own reluctance. He wipes his hands off on his pants, and hopes Neil connects the dots. He can know that Andrew is just as nervous for a reason he also can’t pin down. Neil’s expression opens when Andrew reaches out and tugs on the end of Neil’s shirt, just to see if it has any give. It’s soft.

A part of him wants to _touch_ , maybe in a way that’s not so innocent, and he watches Neil’s expression for any sign of discomfort. Andrew might not like being touched, but he would be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy _touching_.

Or, perhaps that’s also something just for Neil.

So he indulges himself, because it’s a lot easier than trying to relay any sort of feeling through the sheer meaningless weight of words. He tugs on Neil’s shirt again and then pinches the soft fabric cuff at the end of his sleeves, and winds a trail around the button that’s holding it all in place.

Neil doesn’t speak, Andrew wonders if he can. Andrew’s own throat feels closed up, but this doesn’t feel like the place for words anyway. Andrew is admiring his work, looking over the attention to detail. He can see it in his mind; Neil in his sewing room, cutting fabric to specific patterns, sitting at his sewing machine putting it all together as the movie plays in his living room on high volume. Neil likes to hear all the words, likes to mouth the script. When he’s done he takes the time to hand sew the buttons in their rightful places as he recites lines by heart.

Andrew lets his hand run up Neil’s forearm and curve around his elbow, and then tugs until Neil is standing between his legs. The height difference is exaggerated tenfold and Andrew has to crane his neck to look straight up at Neil. But it’s worth it because there’s a smattering of darkened skin right around Neil’s cheeks and across his nose. Andrew is pretty sure Neil has _never_ blushed like this before. Andrew didn’t think it was possible, but here he is looking so flustered just from the simple touch on his arm.

Andrew lowers his arms and lets them rest on the side of Neil’s legs, the fabric of his shirt catching over Andrew’s thumbs. Gently, more than he ever thought he could be, he rests his hands over Neil’s hips.

“I take it you like it?” Neil asks, the corners of his lips quirking despite the shyness of his whisper.

Andrew lets him go immediately, and then sinks back onto the couch. It’s a reality check. Penny’s bells ring, the apartment smells too much like sugar and candy corn, and Andrew is suddenly a bit too warm, as if he’s just stepped out into a humid summer day.

“It’s fine,” Andrew says, and even he knows it’s the farthest thing from convincing. Neil looks unsurprised by Andrew’s comment and maybe a bit amused. Not for the first time, Andrew hates that he can’t just form words without his brain forcing him to go on the defense. Neil still smiles and then reaches out, but stops himself from touching Andrew anywhere.

“I know,” Neil says suddenly, and he steps back and gives them both some space. He rights his dumb little hat again, and Andrew regrets not having touched it. “I like it too.”

Apparently Neil can read Andrew like a book, so maybe words aren’t really necessary. But Andrew’s not that naive. He knows he can’t rely on the silent understanding Neil gives him, because he doesn’t want to.

Neil makes him crave more.

Neil walks away and gets the movie set up, and then comes back to fall into the couch much closer than he ever has before, and Andrew doesn’t try to move away. He just leans back and lets his arm press against Neil’s, the tulle sleeve tickling his skin.

The movie rolls and it’s just as boring as most of the movies they watch, but Andrew is unbelievably warm all over and he realizes he could’ve been sitting like this the entire time. Maybe they’d been slowly getting closer, and he just hadn’t noticed.

Neil leans into his side and Penny jumps down from her cat tree and makes a space for herself on Neil’s lap. Andrew thinks about reaching out, pulling Neil closer, but instead he lets his hand find the edge of Neil’s cuffed sleeve. He tugs on the fabric and Neil moves his hand, flicking his fingers out over the gap. Their fingers bump together awkwardly, and Andrew releases a breath just as they slot their fingers together.

Once it’s done Andrew can’t believe how surprisingly easy it is, how his skin doesn’t crawl at the touch, or how he doesn’t even think about pulling away. They’re holding hands and it’s not something Andrew has ever done before and he shouldn’t assume, but by the way Neil is slightly trembling, he guesses that Neil hasn’t either.

Neil talks in a quiet whisper through the movie, close enough that his breath moves the loose hair by Andrew’s ears. It’s hard to pay attention, but Andrew makes a comment about the husband being manipulative and Neil squeezes his hand in silent praise.

Andrew can see how this is one of Neil’s favorites. It’s dramatic with a plot twist and Neil always seems to love those kinds of endings. And as boring as Andrew finds it, he can admit it has an eerie vibe and mood that is well kept and directed.

The actress isn’t bad, and he squeezes Neil’s hand tighter to keep from laughing when the other starts to quote along with the script.

 _“What have you done to him?”_ Neil whisper-cries, but even he can’t keep up with his own antics, and giggles into Andrew’s shoulder. The vibrations feel like they resonate all the way down Andrew’s legs.

The movie credits roll and neither of them move. Usually Neil is up and turning off the movie by now, talking a mile a minute. Since it’s his favorite, Andrew assumed it would be even more intense than usual.

But it doesn’t come. Instead there is a long and thick silence, and Neil’s hand is still tucked into Andrew’s, moving them slightly. Instead of being fixated on the screen, Neil stares at where they’re connected, and the credits roll through the end.

Andrew feels like he’s floating, and the only tether to reality is the feeling of Neil’s sweaty, calloused skin against his own. He squeezes just to make sure it’s real, and then Neil is sighing and adjusting in his seat.

He lets out a quiet, dazed whisper. “Andrew...”

And it’s so breathless and intoxicating, Andrew wants to bottle it up and play it over and over again, because it sounds like what a strong drink feels like. It spins him and makes everything hazy, and a patch of goosebumps breaks out across his arm.

Andrew is not impulsive by nature, usually he acts after taking careful contemplation, after considering all of his options and all of the potential outcomes. But in the end, sometimes he just does things because it feels like the right thing to do.

So it feels like the right thing to do when Andrew turns in his seat so he can face Neil. It feels like the right thing to do when he reaches out and places one of his hands against Neil’s cheek. It feels like the right thing to do when he lets that hand curl around the back of Neil’s neck, tugging him just a touch closer.

Their noses bump and Neil lets out a breathy laugh and Andrew hums his own agreement at the absurdity of it all. Because his hands are shaking and Neil’s practically vibrating under Andrew’s hands, and it’s really just silly because what comes next isn’t _unfamiliar_ , but for some reason the anticipation of the thing is what seems to make it burn so much harder.

So Andrew asks, “Yes or no?”

And Neil’s answer is so quick, Andrew barely gets the question out. _“Yes.”_

And Andrew kisses him. The rest...the rest doesn’t matter.

Neil’s nose fits against his awkwardly, but it’s somehow perfect in its messiness. Neil tenses up and doesn’t move, lets Andrew coax him out and soften his chapped lips. The total inexperience isn’t something Andrew expects, but it doesn’t surprise him. It doesn’t hinder him either.

Neil is leaning into him, requesting more, more of something he’s never had, and Andrew is all too happy to oblige. It feels wrong to call this kiss routine; Andrew feels just as blind from how the world is slowing around him, how his memory is trying to catalogue it all.

He’s never kissed someone like this.

The texture of Neil’s skin, the warmth of his breath, the way his eyelashes hit the side of Andrew’s face as Andrew tilts him just so… It’s all too much and not enough. Neil’s little hat falls off, and it’s an open invitation. Andrew’s hands fly into the wispy curls and he scratches Neil’s scalp lightly, pulling out sighs and purrs he wants to put on a loop.

He presses his lips firmly to Neil’s, and it’s by no means a passionate, lust-filled kiss. But it is desperate, it’s the most desperate Andrew has ever felt. He pulls back just to press in again a second later, small, deliberate touches which flood the room in soft sounds. Their lips meet again and again until Neil is getting bolder, pushing himself into Andrew with no manual or way to know if he’s right or wrong.

As if realizing this suddenly, Neil pulls back with a hand to his lips, gasping from the lack of air in his lungs. “Sorry I...I realized I might be really bad at this. I’ve never—”

And Andrew shuts him up right there. Neil’s hand falls from his mouth and Andrew grazes his fingers over Neil’s mouth, watching his plush bottom lip stretch and bounce cutely back into place. Neil’s eyes go hungry, wide. Andrew’s voice is raw when he speaks, and he makes no move to correct it. “Neil...you couldn’t be bad at this if you tried.”

_I’m undone by you._

Neil breaths out a quiet laugh as he looks away, and it feels like the huff brushes against Andrew’s skin. It’s like a game of chase, and he can’t help but steal another kiss off of him and then another and then another.

Neil keeps laughing with each exchange, getting more and more comfortable with the motions of it. It stays innocent, if not a little frenzied, with Andrew dragging Neil’s hand up to give him permission to glide under Andrew’s chin. Neil gasps lightly as he rubs at the stubble there, nails tapping against Andrew’s neck until he shivers. And in response to each new exploration, Andrew makes his own, until his hand travels to Neil’s lower back and up again.

He could probably lose time doing this. Kissing Neil, touching Neil. It’s like listening to him talk about his horror movies, Andrew could do it for hours without ever wanting to stop.

But eventually they have to.

Penny lets out a sharp meow and Andrew is suddenly very aware that they’re still sitting on Neil’s couch with the cat stuck between them. They separate in a flurry of pants and confusion as the cat wriggles away. She gets up and forces her way down and off the couch, flicking her tail in frustration with being caught in the middle.

Andrew’s arms are still wrapped around Neil, and he doesn’t want to pull away but they both clearly need the breathing room.

“Jesus,” Andrew says under his breath as he drops his hands, but keeps them at Neil’s sides. Neil laughs and leans forward until their foreheads are pressed together. Andrew nudges him, lips ghosting over his cheeks and temples.

“Okay?” Neil asks, as if for lack of anything better to say.

_Fucking yes, Neil. More than okay._

“Yeah,” Andrew replies, and he reaches up to squeeze the back of Neil’s neck once and closes his eyes. He feels Neil fall forward, settling against him like he was always meant to be there.

It’s a good weight, a necessary one, and yes Aaron was definitely right.

_Definitely more than okay._

Definitely what he wants.

\--

Their movie nights change, but that’s to be expected when you throw kissing into the mix of things. It isn’t just the kissing either. Andrew finds himself in Neil’s apartment more nights than he isn’t there, and he realizes just how much he was holding back before.

The kiss is just more confirmation; Neil wants him there, so why shouldn't he _be_ there?

One night Andrew is halfway out the door and Neil tucks a key into the palm of his hand right before he leaves. Andrew doesn’t have to ask because he already knows what it is, what it means, and the cold metal embeds itself into the grooves of his palm. It fits oddly into the place where his pen would go, a symbol of his isolation, his selfishness. This is so far from that.

So he ends up stepping back into the apartment and kissing Neil far longer than he should before finally leaving. Aaron catches him coming home late that night, flushed and unsteady on his feet, and mimics a gagging motion before running off to his bedroom so Andrew can’t skewer him on the spot.

It’s hard to believe that it’s worked out like this. Hard to believe that Andrew hasn’t lost interest. But even still he knows that he never really could. It’s just Neil. Everything about him keeps Andrew interested, his movies, his outfits, his laughter when Andrew makes dry commentary about a movie, his stupid candy arrangements that he always has waiting in the living room.

It’s hard to believe but- he’s here. And he keeps coming back.

“Look familiar?” Neil says as he spins in place one night. He’s in the same outfit as the first day they met, another one of his favorites. Andrew ends up hooking his fingers into the belt loops of Neil’s bell-bottom jeans and tugging him forward so he can kiss the stupid smile off his face.

Andrew isn’t ashamed to say that he kisses Neil through the majority of their Halloween double feature, Laurie Strode be damned. Though, he will admit…

She has badass potential.

On the night they watch Nightmare on Elm Street, Andrew gives Neil permission to touch him from the waist up, and they spend the rest of the night carefully pushing past boundaries that Andrew never thought he would be comfortable pushing. But here he is, taking steps and trusting that Neil will take no for an answer, and believing in Neil’s promise to say no if he needs to.

For a movie that pushes the fear of going to sleep, Andrew enjoys a restless night afterwards.

That next night they don’t watch a movie. Andrew is just there, because they both want him to be. They make out to the background noise of Neil’s one and only playlist, a mix of somber instrumentals and punk songs from the 90s. Upon looking them up and discovering that the entire playlist consists of nothing but songs used in horror movies, Andrew spends the next hour teasing Neil mercilessly for his one track mind.

After, when he has Neil breathless with laughter and pressed against him on the couch, Neil fiddles with a replica of the Halloween mask. Again, Andrew is greeted by memories of their first meeting, of the sharpness of Neil’s eyes, of the absolute no-nonsense vibes which had Andrew on the floor from the first second.

It seems Neil’s thoughts aren’t too far away. He sighs as he sets it gently to his side, and taps the mask once in thought. “I didn’t think you were serious, you know.”

Andrew squeezes his arm in silent encouragement for him to continue. Neil pauses, gesturing with his hands. Andrew can’t help but smirk; Neil could go on and on for hours, but when it comes to feelings he’s like a baby deer. The analytical intensity is out the window.

“It’s just,” Neil starts, sitting up and turning so he can look Andrew in the eyes. Andrew tries not to get too distracted. “I just thought you were—I don’t know, taking a shot that first day as a joke or something...”

“I don’t make jokes,” Andrew says immediately, which has Neil laughing. Good. It helps Andrew cover up some of his frustration. He’d figured it was the case before, but having Neil’s confirmation doesn’t make him feel better.

The fact that some people would’ve turned away at the prospect of getting to know Neil...he can’t fathom it. Well, he can. Not a lot of people are willing to extend that level of understanding, to wade through the darkness. But Andrew can still be peeved if he wants to be.

Neil pokes his cheek, all teasing. “Yes you do. Just not the type of jokes that people find funny.”

Andrew pushes his face away, which earns him yet another laugh before Neil’s face falls into something serious and unfamiliar. Andrew hasn’t seen him like this in awhile. The coldness overtakes him, and Andrew never forgot Neil’s capacity for it, but he’s seldom on the receiving end. So instead of frostbite, it’s like a refreshing gust of wind on a chilly day.

And then, Neil is reaching out to tap a steady beat against the pulse point on Andrew’s neck. “Why did you stick around?”

If he could crush the insecurity in Neil’s voice in his fist, he would. He’d grind it into powder, and then maybe Neil could use it to make one of those freaky hourglasses he’s been eyeing on his antique websites.

Andrew hums and catches Neil’s hand where it’s fidgeting with the edge of his sweater. “Because you have a terrible attitude and I couldn’t help myself.”

And then, because he can’t hide that much anymore, Andrew adds, “Because you’re you.”

And Neil’s face softens to the point where Andrew has to cup his cheeks, like Neil will melt if he doesn’t have something holding him together. It is not much; Andrew has never been the type to pour his heart out. But Neil has never asked him to.

Neil nods his head in Andrew’s hands, like it’s all more than enough.

But, Neil is still Neil. A moment later, when Andrew is still busy rubbing circles into Neil’s cheeks, he smirks. “So you like me.”

Andrew freezes, and yes, still Neil.

Neil, who loves ruining the moment.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

But the fact he’s leaning in overrides the statement.

It ends up being impossible to kiss Neil properly after that because he’s smirking unabashedly against Andrew’s lips, but Andrew can’t find it in himself to care.

It would be too romantic to say he loses himself in this routine, like a dream with tendrils of smoke and the smell of Neil’s botched caramel apples. But he doesn’t, because what they have is the realest thing Andrew has ever known, and reality is shaped by more than Neil’s lips against his shoulder.

While some nights are fun and light-hearted, others are not. Some are just intense, powerful, others are more somber in ways Andrew covets just as close.

The night they watch Scream, Neil is dressed like Sidney Prescott with a jean jacket and a loose purple shirt underneath. It’s the first night Neil asks Andrew to stay over, hand curled shyly in Andrew’s hoodie before he can move towards the door. _It’s late_ , Neil’s eyes say. _Stay, stay, stay._

So it’s the first night he sleeps with a warm body curled close, and it’s also the first night Andrew pushes Neil down into the soft expanse of his bed and takes him apart.

And in the morning, and again in the afternoon.

He can’t help it. Neil is definitely the most responsive man Andrew has ever been with, and Andrew will never forget the gasps of breath and the whisper of his name against his cheek.

But the physical truths accompany the serious ones. They make their way through the 90s and the 2000s on Neil’s list; the colors, the picture quality, and the effects grow along the way. Just like the way Andrew sees Neil; he becomes clearer, brighter, with more shadows and detailed backgrounds.

Andrew doesn’t notice the months pass, because time isn’t running out. The realization is a bit more daunting than the others, perhaps the worst, or best of them all. He cancels on Neil that night, just to soak it in, and when they meet again Neil has no problem sharing the weight.

So Andrew lets go, and when the heat of summer begins to leak into the air, October far away, Neil lets go of everything too.

They’re watching Hereditary when Andrew gets the entire story.

“I know it’s not my usual cup of tea and it has its problems,” Neil begins, “But I always related to the beginning with—with the mom.”

Andrew knows enough to feel that Neil’s mother doesn’t deserve even _that_ level of consideration, but he doesn’t interrupt as Neil sounds his way through it. “I didn’t know if I should be upset...that she was gone. She stole me away, she did it to keep me safe from my dad but honestly? I’m not even sure if he was really looking for us by the end of it.”

Neil fiddles with his bright orange sweater and then smiles a bit sadly as he remembers. Andrew can only imagine what he must be thinking of, maybe neck pain from sleeping against a car window, or the midnight blurs of shady hotels he would never return to.

“She was just so terrified of him, we both were. But I don’t think we were ever that important to him. She still threw away my life, just to be sure. I was no one.”

And Andrew isn’t one for flowery words or empty comforts. “Yes, you were. But now you’re Neil. You’re…”

Andrew just gestures vaguely at the room around them. The decorations, the collections of movies, the unapologetically awful taste in music and snacks. He gestures to the world that Neil has created around himself, the one that he built from the ground up with nothing but broken nails and rotten wood to start.

“I’m me,” Neil says with understanding, “ _And_ I’m yours.”

Andrew scoffs. Even if the words send something light and fluttering to life in his stomach he knows that it can’t be completely true. Andrew doesn’t want to _keep_ or _own_ Neil. He wants equal ground, equal footing, and they’ve somehow found it, but he just wants Neil to know.

“I don’t own you,” Andrew says resolutely.

“You know what I mean,” Neil replies, he reaches out and rubs his thumb across Andrew’s cheek before tucking his hands away once again.

And oh, Andrew does. He understands. A part of him is Neil’s as well. But the thought feels a bit too much for him to handle right now. Not when Neil is already misty eyed with unspoken truths that are suddenly bubbling up to the surface.

The movie just started anyways, and there is really no time like the present. So Andrew turns down the volume and faces Neil completely, and catches him. “Tell me the rest.”

The rest, and more. Andrew will take it all. Neil visibly swallows and nods, but there’s no longer doubt that Andrew is here to stay.

“Okay,” Neil says, “It’s sort of a long story.”

What Andrew doesn’t say is that they have literally all of the time in the world. All Neil ever has to do is ask. 

And at the end of the night, when Andrew ends up talking about Aaron’s mother, or _his_ biological mother, he supposes, Neil is there to catch him just the same.

\--

Andrew is standing in the living room having a stare down with Penny; when he arrived, she placed herself down on top of his jacket and now refuses to move. Not for the first time, he’s really fucking thankful that she’s a black cat. Now the hair won’t be as noticeable against his dark clothing.

He still glares. He’s going to have to get used to being subjected to this treatment often, once he’s fully moved in.

“I’m not picking you up,” Andrew says. Penny flicks her tail and continues to stare with her alarmingly large eyes. “I mean it. Move.”

“Andrew!”

Andrew turns in time to see Neil standing in the hallway entrance wearing a turtleneck sweater that definitely doesn’t belong to him. Andrew thought his side of the closet was missing something. It’s an old sweater, well-worn and loved throughout the years. Despite the nostalgia and resilience that's weaved into every string of that sweater, he supposes that it looks much better on Neil than it ever did him.

Neil looks flustered where he’s standing, bouncing back and forth between his feet like he’s waiting for the cue to take off into a sprint. Movie nights are like that for him. He settles significantly when he catches sight of Penny sitting on top of Andrew’s jacket. His eyes dance back and forth between Andrew and the ball of fur, amusement shining through.

“We’re going to be late,” Neil says. “Are you and Penny fighting again?”

“We aren’t fighting,” Andrew says, and just to be extra dismissive he asks, “What are you wearing?”

Neil looks down at his stolen turtleneck and tugs at the hem. Where it would normally be a bit long on Andrew, it seems to fall just right on Neil. Despite that, everything else about the sweater seems to be loose on him, including the turtleneck, which hangs a bit low and reveals a sliver of skin just below Neil’s jaw. 

“What?” Neil asks, looking like he’s been caught with his hand in the candy jar. He ducks his chin further into the neckline. “It’s comfortable.”

Andrew is far from disappointed, but he was expecting one of Neil’s creations. “You usually have something made.”

“Not tonight,” Neil says with a click of his tongue. Andrew is already rolling his eyes. “I have a feeling this movie won’t make it onto the list.”

This movie, a new release, is apparently so bad Neil won’t even say the name of it aloud. It’s probably the biggest form of disrespect, coming from the horror junkie.

“You know what they say,” Andrew starts, but doesn’t finish because he’s said it so many times over the last year of their relationship that Neil can just finish the sentence for him.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Neil recites dutifully, albeit with frustration. “But Drew, I watched the _trailer_. It’s _different_.”

“Sure,” Andrew replies, because they’ve had this conversation before and Andrew _still_ doesn’t agree with him. But Neil is fierce in his belief that movies and books stand separately and shouldn’t be held to the same standards. Speaking of, Andrew has tried to get Neil to read through one of the horror novels he has collected, and it only really works out when Andrew ends up reading it aloud while Neil is working in his sewing room.

Andrew looks back to Penny to find that she still hasn’t moved. He lets out a deep sigh and reaches out for his jacket only for the damn cat to swat his hand away.

Neil laughs at him and walks over to the couch and unearths the jacket without a single claw in his hand. Penny is _Neil’s cat_ but even after a year she still sees Andrew as the enemy. Living together hasn’t really changed that either.

Andrew just lets out a breath that’s close enough to a sigh, and takes the jacket from Neil’s outstretched hand. He brushes off any excess fur while staring Penny dead in the eye. It has no effect.

“We better go,” Neil says, checking his phone for the time and frowning. “We’re so late.”

“We’re not late,” Andrew grumbles. Neil is always obnoxiously early to these things because he likes the trailers, and insists Andrew takes forever to get his snacks. It’s not true, but they can agree to disagree.

Neil scoffs at him and grabs the keys from the keyholder by the front door. It’s a horrifying thing that Neil found at an oddity shop a few months back, a wooden plaque with two skeletal fingers sticking out. Nothing Andrew said could convince him not to buy it on the spot.

“I want to make sure we get the best spots,” Neil says. Then, he smirks. “All the way in the back so no one can see us, of course.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow in question and follows Neil to the front door.

“You always want to sit in the middle,” Andrew comments, because Neil legitimately almost fought someone once for the last two seats. “Why the back?”

“I already told you,” Neil explains, and Andrew tugs on the tail of the sweater that’s sticking out of Neil's pants just so Neil will swat at him. “This movie isn’t going to be making it onto the list.”

He wiggles his eyebrows in a show that’s probably supposed to be suggestive but really doesn’t do much other than make his nose scrunch cutely. Andrew’s lips lift upwards, and to avoid confrontation he just puts his hand on Neil’s back and pushes him through the front door.

He untucks the tail of the sweater again too, for good measure.

“If you wanted to make out with a movie in the background we could have just stayed home,” Andrew says, closing and locking the door behind them. Not for the first or last time, he smooths his hand over the door.

Home. Such a basic, unimpressive concept. But he finds it means something, no matter how he tries to fight it.

Neil laughs, and it sounds like it always sounds. Andrew has heard it more than enough times, it’s no longer novel or shocking. But it’s hopeful, light, and all encompassing. The familiarity of it is crushing, and Andrew has never been one for hope or for positive outlooks, but perhaps he can’t say that anymore. Neil swept him up, and never really let him return to Earth, and it’s like the fantasy woven by one of his many movies.

But this is far from a horror story, and Andrew knows he will get to hear Neil’s laughter for years to come. That’s how long he intends to be by Neil’s side, and the key in his pocket weighs heavily, like the boxes stacked in storage, waiting to be placed in their apartment.

It’s both too soon and not soon enough, but Andrew knows there’s no rush. He can enjoy this, and he lets the cold air hit him gratefully as soon as they step outside.

As Neil tucks his arm into Andrew’s on the way to the old town theater, Andrew feels the beginnings of fall swirl around him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Neil's list](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1HqkB685r1ogqo1zgS_8Y6Vp_lhAOMKH0pd5xXseyiO4/edit?usp=sharing)   
>  [Rosemary's Baby outfit](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/9e/fd/3a/9efd3a35e227c56bb3aea4199f737c7d.jpg)   
>  [Sidney Prescott outfit](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/cc/c9/b0/ccc9b0680912b9e1c78d6e8e0716d77b.jpg)


End file.
